Consequences of Falling
by GraceBe
Summary: Not all is bliss in Genovia after Clarisse and Joe have married. Guess which ghost from the past reappears to make trouble? C&J of course, as well Mia, Nicholas and Rupert. I've posted the last chapters today. Thanks for your patience and enjoy the end!
1. Prologue

Prologue

The air in the old church smelled effete and damp. The candles that had illuminated the altar and the beautiful lead crystal window behind it had burned down some time ago and now darkness lay over the holy place.

The church was empty. Only a man, a priest, in his early forties knelt in front of the altar; his eyes squeezed close, his hands tightly clasped in prayer.

"Hail Mary full of grace  
The Lord is with thee.  
Blessed art thou among women  
And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.  
Holy Mary, Mother of God  
Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

His voice faded but the man remained in his suplicated position for a while and covered his face with his hands. He didn't even move when he heard the old front door first opening and then closing behind him. He knew who was coming inside the church. In fact he had waited for his arrival since the news had been spread around the country.

The low but firm steps came closer and echoed within the cold walls. When the sound of the nearing steps finally died out next to him he looked up. The tall figure at his side was wrapped in a dark coat although the temperatures outside were much warmer than inside the church.

"How could it happen?"

"I don't know."

"You should have stopped her!"

"How could I? She didn't exactly ask me for permission before she went down the aisle with him."

"And she never told you anything about him? Didn't she confess her sins to you?" He scoffed and shook his head.

"I'm hardly her priest… All I heard was that he had given her his letter of resignation the day before. No one expected this wedding. I'm not sure she expected it herself. She wasn't herself today."

"I wonder if she ever was herself since she met him… I told you to observe them to see it with your own eyes! But you never believed me!"

The priest rose from his uncomfortable position on the hard stone ground and rubbed his cold hands. He preferred not to comment the last statement.

"And now?" He asked instead and turned to the other man. He was much older than he was. His face was old and although once handsome it spoke of suffered pain and sorrow. And now bitterness.

"The time has come… that wedding meant nothing. Their marriage isn't valid."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. The laws are old but they exist. That marriage isn't valid and there's no chance that Amelia can become Queen now."

"But it's her legacy. She deserves that chance after what she accomplished today."

"Accomplished… she destroyed old values and sold your mother to a commoner. Tell me what this accomplishment will do good to our old and proud country!"

"Don't underestimate Amelia or Mother. Both are stronger than you might think."

The older man remained in silence for some time before he finally answered. Obviously he wanted to chose his words carefully: "I'll never again make the mistake to underestimate your mother. God knows I've done so many times before and certainly today. But I can't trust her judgement anymore. As much as I might want to I can't."

***


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Night had set over the Genovian Palace after a long day filled with emotions and surprises had ended. The country though shaken by the events of the day seemed to find the peace it needed to gain strength for the upcoming coronation and the changes it would bring.

Peace also filled the Queen's private chambers where the still-Queen-of-Genovia and her new husband were slowly dancing to some soft classic background music. Only a few candles were illuminating the room and a small but pleasant fire crackled in the fireplace. Clarisse's head rested at Joseph's shoulder, her eyes were closed and he couldn't help but smiling all the time. 12 hours before he had thought his life had ended. He had prepared to leave her life and Genovia forever and now he was holding her, dancing with her, loving her as her husband. They had danced together so often over the years. In happiness and pain, in laughter and in tears.  
Their bodies had connected that way a long time ago but their souls had needed to overcome so many obstacles that a few days ago he had given up hope. He had simply stopped hoping she would ever allow herself to be with him. He had always known she loved him but gaining her utter devotion and her trust had been a different matter. Somehow she had never seemed to feel safe and loved enough to entrust herself completely to him. And then today she had simply overwhelmed him with her spontaneous proposal inside the church with all the chaotic circumstances that had shaken up everything. He had felt then that she was ready for him. Under all these layers of royalty and duty was the woman he loved above all. He would sacrifice everything for her. Even his life and now after exchanging their spontaneous wedding vows in front of the whole country he finally knew she would do the same for him.

"Penny for your thoughts," he whispered into her hair and pulled back a bit to see her face. She smiled up to him and shook her head slightly. "It's just perfect. I have to say I'm afraid to move or talk because I fear I could ruin this moment. Or wake up from this dream."

"That won't happen", he answered gently and kissed her forehead. "It's no dream. It's all true and real. Do you have any idea how happy you've made me today?"

Her glance fell onto the messed up bed behind them and she gave him a meaningful smile. "You've already said something like that." He returned her smile and she leaned into him for a kiss.

"I wasn't referring to that! Although after all those lonely and sleepless nights…," he said sheepishly and she gave him a look.

"Excuse me?"

"I think we have had a lot to catch up on."

"You brought those lonely nights onto yourself, my dear!"

"Do we really have to go there again?" he asked pretending to be wounded and kissed her hand.

"No, we don't have to. You know what the best is? That we have the rest of our lives to catch up on all the lost nights and years." She played with the collar of his robe and added pensively: "Without hiding any longer."

"That's maybe the best part of our new agreement. I was so tired of sneaking around. Of leaving these rooms in the early morning hours… of pretending not to love you… of aching for you every hour I couldn't be with you."

"I know. I felt the same… but I guess I just wanted to do it right somehow… I still can't promise not to fall back into my old habits…", her voice trailed off and she wrapped her arms around his neck as if by pressing her body against his he could give her the strength to stick to her promises. He held her closely to him and ran his hands reassuringly over her back.

"It's all right now", he whispered tenderly. "We're here, we're together. Nothing will separate us again!" She pulled back a bit and cracked a loving smile. "Trust me," he said lowly as he looked into her sparkling blue eyes. Then he bent forward and their mouths melted into a long passionate kiss that immediately started to overwhelm them again with quickly growing desire. The music in the background faded slowly and the room slipped into a comfortable silence only interrupted by the sound of slow lazy kisses and increased breathing.

"I love you…," Joseph whispered against her chin and moved slowly down to her throat kissing and licking each inch he passed until he reached her collarbone. A low sigh escaped her throat and she cupped his cheek with her hand and guided him gently back to her demanding mouth. Slowly he pulled her robe from her shoulder and played with the strap of her silky nightgown. Their kisses grew hungrier and more forceful and soon his hands started to pull and push clothes aside.

The candles around them started flickering all of the sudden as a cold breeze blew across the room. Some of them died out and Joe freed himself reluctantly from Clarisse.

He looked to the side and when he saw the reason for the sudden change of atmosphere his eyes widened in surprise.

"Forgive my intrusion, but I have something important to discuss with you, Mother."

Clarisse who had been fixing her robe jerked around: "Pierre!" Her face became red and she cleared her throat while she instinctively slipped closer to Joseph. "You've scared me!"

"I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention."

"Why didn't you knock instead of sneaking in through the window?" Joe asked still bewildered about Pierre's strange entrance.

"It's important that no one knows I'm here," the younger man explained without taking his eyes from his mother who was still embarrassed about being caught in such an intimate situation by her own son. She could read in Pierre's face that he had already watched Joseph and her for a while before he had come into her suite, and that disturbed her deeply.

She had often wished that her relationship with her oldest son were a bit warmer and closer but since he spent only Christmas in Genovia and attended big family celebrations such as Mia's wedding and coronation it was hard for her to connect with him.

"So why are you here?" She asked as gently as possible although fearing he would demand an explanation about her short notice wedding with Joseph. After all she had never told him about her love to her Head of Security. Her son was a priest far away from her daily life and since her younger son had died she had often thought that Pierre was avoiding her for reasons she just couldn't explain. Maybe because it was just that. A certain feeling.

"Can we talk privately? Just for a few minutes?"

Clarisse looked at Joseph who nodded understandingly.

"Of course." He gave her a kiss on the forehead and after giving a small smile to Pierre he retired into the bedroom closing the door carefully behind him.

Felling rather awkward Clarisse ran her fingers through her hair on the back of her head. She was nervous and different from her image in public; she wasn't good in hiding her emotions when it came to her most private emotions.

"Well, why don't we sit down?" She offered him a place on the couch but Pierre shook his head.

"It won't take long."

"For god's sake we've hardly talked since your arrival. So now that you're here we can talk!"

She sank on the couch and observed him while he paced the room with a bowed head.

"I wish you had talked to me before you went through with the wedding," he finally said without facing her.

"I can imagine it was a surprise for you, but everything happened so quickly…"

She couldn't explain much more, because Pierre interrupted her with growing anger: "Why did you never tell me anything about you and him? Don't you think I deserve more than "It happened so quickly"?"

He really seemed outraged. He had stopped running around and was staring at her, demand and rage flickering in his eyes. Clarisse sighed and closed her eyes. She couldn't expect it to be easy… not with Pierre. Her oldest son had a very strong mind and his very own opinion.

"There are things in life, a mother doesn't discuss with her son," she said tiredly and shrugged, "especially not when he's hardly around." She rose from the couch and went slowly to the fireplace. Just looking into the flames helped her relaxing.

"And especially not when he's a priest?"

"Why are you saying this?"

"Being unfaithful is a sin. Even for a Queen. And that's what happened between you and him, right?" The words hung in the air and built up another wall between mother and son. Clarisse turned her head slightly into her son's direction. She felt as if a stranger was talking to her and not her own flesh and blood.

"I've never been unfaithful to anyone, Pierre. Not to my country and not to your father. This ridiculous discussion ends here and now." Her voice was cold filled with dignity and pride.

"I've seen you with him, Mother. All those years I watched you. The way he admired and desired you, but I never said a thing because I was convinced you wouldn't betray my father, your husband."

"And I never did!"

"And yet… one night I saw you and him together. Father was already ill…" He stopped and Clarisse could see the torture written all over her son's face. For some moments neither of them said a thing but then Pierre had regained his composure and added: "Why did you have to legalize that affair? Couldn't you just live with him like you did over the last years? Why do you have to disgrace our family and country by marrying him? You haven't strengthened our claim to the throne, you've weakened us! You have no actual idea what that will do to our country!"

"What are you talking about? I told you I never cheated on your father. I don't have to legalize anything, because loving Joseph is not a crime or a sin or whatever you might call it! Maybe I should have told you about my relationship with him, but since you prefer to hide from me I couldn't know you were interested in my life or what is going on in our family or in this country!"

Her outburst had happened suddenly and without a warning. She had listened to his accusations trying to be as calm as possible, but hearing her son belittling her life and Joseph was too much.

"I never had the impression you needed me here. After I told you I wouldn't become King, you and father had lost all interest in me and my life, anyway. Philippe was the center of your attention and I could finally live my life far away from all this! Not even when he died you asked for me… do you have any idea how much that hurt me?" The last words came out calmly. Suddenly silent and bitter Pierre turned away and stared at the next best painting on the wall.

She felt incredibly sad all of a sudden. Worn out and defeated. She had never had an argument like this with Pierre before. He had never told her so openly how he felt about her, not even when he abdicated the throne he had been like this. Philippe had been different. He was easy to talk to. Such a joyful person. He had been much more open-minded than Pierre but Clarisse had always believed that Pierre had been more serious than his younger brother, because he had known about the responsibility of being the crown prince. God knew that Rupert had never gotten tired of explaining to Pierre how important it was to show strength and posture as the future king. It had been drilled into him his whole life and he drilled it first into Pierre and later into Philippe.

She walked slowly to Pierre and rested her hands on his shoulders. "Darling, please. I never wanted to hurt you! Your father and I just tried to accept your decision. We thought that letting you do what you wished to, would make it easier on you. We never wanted to abandon you. Never!" She squeezed his shoulders a bit tighter and added tenderly: "You're my only child left. There's no way I wouldn't want to have you around. I've missed you terribly, but I always feared you would reject me if I asked you to visit me more often."

"Then you don't know me very well, Mother." Pierre turned and gave his mother a sad look.

"Please, Pierre, you have to believe me."

"I try, Mother, I really try, but I know what I saw over the years."

Clarisse took a deep breath. It wouldn't be easy dealing with Pierre after this conversation. The invisible rift between them wasn't as invisible as she had thought. Actually, it was quite obvious now. It would need a lot of time and love to get through to him again, but so far there was only thing she really had to set straight between them. Joseph.

"I want you to leave Joseph alone. If you're angry with me, fine, but don't lash out on him, because he has nothing to do with this."

"I wish you were right."

"I'm serious, Pierre."

"Me too. But after all, it doesn't matter what I think or believe. Actually, what happens from now on is out of my hands."

Clarisse narrowed her eyes and waited. She had never liked secrecy and mischief. And the way her son was talking now, didn't forecast any good.

"I came here to give you a warning. There are forces around in this country that won't allow Amelia to become Queen. Not after she ignored our old laws and traditions. Not after you married Joseph. From now on, you'll have to be very careful, because every step of yours and hers is watched."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll see that quite soon."

"I want an answer, Pierre!"

Now she was the Queen again: the monarch that feared for her country and her legacy.

"I can't tell you more. I did even promise not to warn you." He took his mother's hand and placed a graceful and tender kiss on it. Clarisse eyed him in wild disbelief, trying to comprehend what was happening between them. Pierre straightened up again, kissed his mother's cheek and said in a husky voice: "I have to go, Mother. May God be with you, because I can't promise you I will!"

"Pierre! Wait! You can't go like this! Pierre! Stay here!" Clarisse tried getting a hold of his sleeve as he turned to leave but he rushed out through the still opened window.

"Pierre!"

She ran to the window and watched her son rushing away over the terrace into the garden. At first she thought about contacting Shades to hunt him down, but then she gave up on the idea imagining the chaos and the gossip she would produce with her request. The wind outside was getting colder and she rubbed her arms.

"Clarisse?"

"I'm here." She closed the window and turned to Joseph. He looked at her worriedly and before she knew what she was doing she threw herself into his arms.

"Hold me! Please, Joseph, hold me!" she whispered helplessly and buried her face into his chest.

"I heard you arguing. It was about me," he stated lowly and she shook her head. "And I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be. It's hardly your fault! I don't know what went into him. But he'll have to get over it."

"I don't want to be the reason for trouble between the two of you."

"You aren't and you won't. I won't let that happen. And honestly my worst fear is something else."

"And what?"

"He was so bitter, so completely unhappy and angry with me. He never behaved like that before! He seemed so far away from me…"

"But you haven't done anything wrong to him," he said reassuringly and kissed her head. "I've watched you dealing with his abdication and his ordination to the priesthood and I never had the feeling you treated him unfairly or denied him his status in the family."

He was honest. As always Clarisse had handled the trouble with grace and poise. She had been the opposite of Rupert who had had a hard time to come to terms with his oldest son's decision.

Clarisse pulled back a bit and gave him a sad smile. "Thank you… that's what you say and what every observer might says, but I'm afraid I don't know my own son anymore."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The flames in the old fireplace were flickering angrily and the wood was cracking. Due to the wind outside the flue within the chimney intensified every now and the undeniable sound of the upcoming storm could be heard. Fall was indeed arriving in Genovia and if someone had asked him before he would have said the moment couldn't have been chosen better. The change of seasons was foreshadowing the change of the country. The fall of the old virtues and traditions was symbolized in the weather and of course in the newspapers. The headline said it all:

**"Newly wed Queen Clarisse and her loyal Knight."**

Written under the picture that showed the Queen and her husband with his new insignia. As if she hadn't provided him with more than enough honours over the years, Clarisse Renaldi had finally taken the last big step to legitimatise him in front of the whole world. A wedding ring hadn't been enough. It needed royal pomp and glory, an order and a big title.

He sighed. Only two days had passed since the Queen of Genovia had married her Head of Security and she had already knighted him. She had announced him as His Royal Highness, Duc de Pyrus. The Duke of Pyrus, a title that was usually reserved for the retired King after the next generation had taken over. It was created for the monarch and not the recently legalized lover of the future Dowager Queen. Even if she would carry that title once Amelia was Queen, she had no right to give this honour to a commoner who had taken the shortcut through her bed to become who he was now.

"My god, Clarisse, what were you thinking?" He rumpled the newspaper in his hands and threw it into the flames. The picture of Clarisse and her husband crumbled quickly in the flames while he stared at it and stood supported by his arms at the mantelpiece. His face was distorted with disgust and when the heat of the fire burnt in his eyes he closed them. Again there was the same name on his mind whose echo had followed him for months now…

"Clarisse, Clarisse, Clarisse… »

***

Thanks to a certain weakness in the Palace security system that Shades couldn't be aware of yet and Joe had no idea of because he was spending his time in a different way since his wedding Pierre could sneak back in again. He was standing at the top of the beautiful double staircase and glared down into the dark room.

In a few days Mia should be crowned in here and his mother would sail for the sunset with her new husband. The mere thought hurt. It didn't feel right to him. The world couldn't change like that. Mia, clumsy Mia of all people, wasn't the right choice for the throne. He knew why his mother had insisted that Mia should take over as the monarch. After all, she was the last apparently available Renaldi left. The only legal heir to the throne…but what if there was a better choice? A possibility no one dared to think of? What if a miracle had happened and the country wouldn't have to suffer from a monarch like Mia who hardly had the ability to rule with an iron fist in case it was needed?  
Although being a member of the church he had had never believed in miracles, but what he had experienced some months ago had changed his mind. He wasn't sure that his mother would appreciate the miracle the same way he did. It would shake her world and change her life completely, but on the other hand it could be a new beginning for her as well. It could provide a possibility to change things for the better again.

He sighed and slowly went downstairs. He had always loved this big hall. Many of his happiest childhood memories had their source in here. The parties, the mattress surfing, the ramp… his 21st birthday… his engagement… It had seen so many happy family scenes and yet witnessed a lot of sadness. It was a kaleidoscope of his life.  
His brother Philippe had broken his leg when he fell down the stairs; the day he had announced his abdication to the family his mother had intensely argued with him on the stairs and later she had apologized to him right there. Even later, his father's body had been laid in state between the two staircases.

And only weeks before his father had died he had observed something that had caused a major rift in his relationship with his mother although she had never been aware of it. But it had started that very night and had robbed him off of his most precious illusion. The illusion of his parents.

He had come home to Genovia from the French village that had been his parish since he had become a priest. His father had been seriously ill and his mother had told him that the doctors feared he wouldn't have to live much longer. So he had returned and his father had indeed been in a bad state. He had been caught between consciousness and fevered dreams and it had been obvious that his life was ending.

The illness had also put a terrible strain on his mother. She had hardly been herself in those days. She had lost weight, had looked tired and pale to an extend that had alarmed him and his brother. One night after they could finally convince her to get some sleep instead of staying up at their father's side Pierre, much to his surprise, had found her on the stairs. And she hadn't been alone. Joseph, his father's loyal bodyguard, had been with her. Right next to her. The moonlight that had fallen through the big terrace doors into the room had bathed them into a diffuse light. Together they had sat at the bottom of the stairs while he, Pierre, had stood in safe distance to them. Just close enough to listen to their low conversation.

_"He's dying, Joseph. He's slowly slipping away from me… and I've got no idea how to take it. What will I do without him?"_

Pierre heard his mother's voice breaking and felt his own sadness taking over again. She hadn't spoken to him or his brother like this. In a way she still treated them as children instead of grown men and in front of them she always kept her strong façade. That she was talking to Joseph like this bewildered and even shocked him, because so far he had never observed anything more than some polite exchange of words between them. Seeing them together when the rest of the Palace was sleeping was strange.

"You don't have to "take it"…It's natural that things like that affect and weaken us. He's your husband and you suffer because you see him fading away. Everybody understands you. And you'll survive this because you're strong."

Now he could swear he had heard a low chuckle between two sobs. "Sometimes I really wonder what you see in me… What about the Von Trokens?… They only wait for him to die to take over the throne again! What if I can't fight them like I should? What if I fail?"

"They won't succeed, Ma'am. Concentrate on the King and his needs. I'll take care of the Von Trokens."

"That's very kind of you."

"That's my job."

"You do much more than your job and you know that," she said mildly and silence settled over them. When he spoke again, Joe's voice was huskier than it should probably be. Something in it alarmed Pierre. How could it be that he never realized his mother and Joe were so close?

"Call it sense of duty."

"It's called devotion. You're the most loyal person I've ever met and that amazes me every time I look at you."

"I wasn't aware that you look at me…"

"I do…a lot lately."

The words hung in the air and faded into another tense moment of silence. Pierre held his breath and waited. Then Joe rose from stairs and extended his hand to her.

"Would you dance with me?"

"Now?"

"Now."

After a short hesitation Clarisse took Joseph's hand and let him guide her into the middle of the grand-sized room. Afraid they could see him, Pierre stepped back. While his mother and his father's head of security were dancing down there in the moonlight without any music in the moonlight he couldn't take his eyes from them. He had seen his father and his mother dancing a hundred times – officially and unofficially but he had never seen the same kind of affection between them. His father was a divine dancer but his mother, his much more elegant counterpart, hadn't moved that sensually at his side. And now Joseph skilfully guided her through the room and whether it was intentional or not their bodies touched more often and longer than the dance, a mix between a waltz and a tango, afforded. At one point they moved slowly backwards side by side and Joe's right hand finally rested on his mother's hip while the other held her hand. The light of the moon illuminated his mother's face as the dance finally ended and the two froze in their position. Instinctively, Pierre made a step forward. He wanted to interrupt them, scream at them, disturb them in their closeness, but no words escaped his throat. He only watched them while they were looking into each other's eyes without separating their bodies from each other. Then some endless heartbeats later Joe finally gave her free and left the hall without losing another word.

His mother went away some moments later. She even passed him on her way out, but again he could only stand still. He didn't call her back nor did he ask her what had just happened between her and the Head of the Security. Deep in his mind he knew that although they hadn't even kissed or touched in an improper way his mother and Joseph had started to consume a physical relationship that went far beyond friendship.

***

Clarisse critically looked at her reflection in the mirror. The last few days had been hectic and stressful and her face showed it. Usually, her age didn't bother her much, but right now she didn't feel exactly energetic and agile. The fact that she hardly slept at night since she and Joseph had married didn't help much. They happily abused the gift of being together without having to hide but being up all day to prepare Mia and the coronation and staying up at night making love or making plans for the future was exhausting. Beautiful and exciting but also tiring. And every time her last conversation with Pierre came to her mind her life was also saddening.

She hadn't seen him since her wedding night and she couldn't help to be worried about her son and the bitterness he carried around inside of him. She sighed and tried to push those thoughts away from her at least for tonight. She had to look fresh and ready to face the music for Mia's sake. It was the evening before the coronation and a big ball would take place. It was her last evening, as Queen of Genovia and she wanted to enjoy it and show her newfound happiness off to her country.

She had hoped that Joseph would join her for a nice, long, hot bath before she had to prepare for the ball but maybe it wasn't that bad he wasn't there right now. They would only end up in bed again and be very late as a result…

She smiled by the thought of her adorable husband and turned on the hot water to prepare her bath…

***

Joseph closed the door behind him and loosened his tie. He was already late but Shades had asked him to help with a security matter and he could hardly tell him to do it all by himself. Not after he had quit within seconds because he had to marry the love of his life. And how could he refuse to help when it was the love of his life and her granddaughter who needed protection? He hadn't mentioned it to Clarisse or Mia but he was indeed nervous after what Pierre had said to his mother. Not that he believed the underlying threats Pierre had made but still he sensed that something was going on. Rumours he had heard from several people in the right positions weren't very reassuring either… but there weren't enough hints to know whom to fight or when. As long as nothing happened tonight or tomorrow... He couldn't bear the thought that anything or anyone could sabotage the coronation or worse hurt Mia or Clarisse.

He looked around and his eyes fell onto a beautiful bouquet of roses that stood on the nightstand next to her bed. He raised his eyebrows. Was it another present for their wedding? He saw the small card next to the crystal vase and went there to read it.

"With all my love" No signature. His heart started to pump nervously in his chest. What was this about? Who gave her the flowers?

"Clarisse?"

"Bathroom."

He put the card back on the nightstand and entered the bathroom. The air was steamy and smelled of her favourite bath oils. Clarisse was standing in front of the mirror wrapped in a big white towel brushing her wet hair. Her sight was so bewitching that he was almost forgetting about the card and the roses. He leaned at the doorframe and simply looked at her. Her perfect body in that towel… the curve of her breasts… her hips… her thighs… her long legs. Was there any part of her body that wasn't perfectly shaped and made for him? She had always been the embodiment of his dreams and she could arouse him without even attempting to be sexy. The promise of her naked skin under the thick white fabric was enough and yet, she still wasn't aware of the power she had over him…  
And right now she was doing it again. In all innocence. She turned her head and gave him a warm smile: "Everything alright in the security room?"

"Just a small problem with a few cameras… nothing serious," he answered without taking his eyes off of her. Actually, he was already picturing her without the towel around her body…

"Good. Do you feel well? You seem… distracted."

"I'm fine," he said huskily and slowly moved closer to her. He placed himself right behind her and kissed her shoulder that was still covered with small drops of water. "You're beautiful. Why do you have to look and smell like this? It's a sin…," he mumbled against her skin and kissed his way to her neck counting the drops he licked from her delicate, freckled skin. A long low sigh escaped her throat when she felt his lips and teeth tenderly teasing her skin. "Joseph…"

"Yes, my darling?"

She leaned against him and weakly attempted to protest: "We don't have time… the ball, Mia… she wants my advice for…" Her voice trailed off slowly as his hands found the way under the towel and caressed the naked skin of her belly aiming for her breasts. The reason why she had to help Mia was undeniably slipping from her mind and replaced by pure desire. Everywhere Josephs' hands touched her, a fire was running through her veins and made her skin glow. Only he could do this to her and he perfectly knew it. In his arms she always became senseless and weak and gave herself to him; pleasing him and making him moan with the same desire she felt became much more important than Mia or the upcoming ball. He had won the game before it had started and she would make sure to get some payback for that soon.

She turned in his embrace and kissed him fiercely. The towel dropped and seconds later she felt her naked skin connecting with carpet of her bathroom…

Somehow they had made it to the bed to enjoy a second round of lovemaking. At least their backs would be grateful for the luxury of silk sheets and a much softer mattress, but their schedule wasn't. Time was running faster than they wanted and they really had to leave the bed now or they would be too late. Later than even a Queen could afford.

"I told you not to seduce me," she complained lazily and lifted her head to have a look at his face.

He smirked and shook his head. "Me seducing you? You seduced me, my dear!"

"Liar!"

He interrupted the discussion by involving her in a passionate kiss and caressed the naked thigh that was wrapped around his legs with his full hand until he reached her barely covered hip. If she didn't get up this would lead to another session they really shouldn't have right now… but his hands felt too good on her body. God, the man was irresistible and so good!

"You can argue with me about your seduction skills, you can get up and dress or stay here with me now… whatever the Lady wishes."

"We can't stay here… as much as I want to… we can't." She sighed and buried her face in his neck. "I'm sure Priscilla and Olivia already believe that I've developed into a sex addicted old fool! Remember they change the sheets!"

"That makes two of us!" He chuckled and fondled the back of her neck. Much to his dismay the roses caught his attention again. He hated to ruin the atmosphere but part of him simply had to know. And maybe his imagination was just playing a bad trick on him.

"Clarisse… who gave you the roses?"

She looked up and turned her head to the vase. Then she gave him a strange smile and said: "Haven't you brought them with you before you came into the bathroom?"

"No."

"But they weren't there before."

He reached out and took the card from the nightstand. "With all my love," he read aloud and gave her the card, "that's not my handwriting."

She stared at the card and he noticed that her facial expression was suddenly changing. The smile faded and was replaced with confusion and something else he couldn't read or name.

"No, that's not your handwriting," she simply stated and put it away.

"And?" he asked, as she didn't continue to explain.

"Nothing… I don't know who sent them. Maybe, Olivia or Priscilla know more. I'll ask them later." She shrugged and rose from the bed covering her body with the sheet.

She knew or at least had an idea who sent the flowers. He saw it in her eyes and it worried him that she didn't want to share it with him. She left the bed too quickly and her eyes were avoiding him. Something was definitely wrong. He wanted to reach out to her to keep her by his side but she elegantly slipped aside and said quickly: "We should hurry now… can you please call Olivia for me?"

***

While getting dressed Clarisse couldn't get the roses and the strange card out of her mind. There had only been one person who had given her flowers and a card without signature and that special person's name she would never mention to Joseph in bed shortly after making love. He belonged to a part of life which had been over for a long time. It couldn't be him. Not after all this time. It was simply impossible. But the handwriting… almost like… no, she simply had to forbid herself to think about it. It was just an illusion. Nothing more.

Clarisse was sitting at her dressing table and Olivia stood behind her fixing her hair. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice that Olivia had almost finished.

"The tiara, Ma'am."

"Oh…" Clarisse quickly gave her a smile and took the tiara out of Olivia's hands to carefully place it on her head.

"Thank you, Olivia."

The maid continued to adjust some last strands of Clarisse' hair and again someone else caught her attention. Joseph was coming out of the bathroom fixing his cufflinks.

They hadn't talked since she had left the bed and she hated it. Hated the silence that created an unnecessary wall between them. The last time they hadn't spoken to one another she had nearly lost him and she still could slip into an unreasonable panic when she thought about it. But if she told him why she couldn't tell him about her thoughts when she saw the roses, he would be hurt. And the last thing she wanted was hurting him – again.

The ringing of his cell phone disturbed her thoughts.

"Yes?… Ah Jacques. Bon soir… bien. Oh really…? And the other matter we talked about?…. I see… Merci, Jacques. Au'voir." He hung up and looked into empty space for some time. She knew what it meant when he was absent like this. He was trying to estimate the virtue and the consequences of the information he just had gotten. Grateful to have something to talk about she asked: "Who was that?"

"That was Jacques. A friend of mine. He works in the Home Office," he gave her a soft smile. "It seems that Pierre hasn't left Genovia yet. Or at least no one using his passport has left the country."

"Oh… that's good," she said and kept looking at his reflection in the mirror. She sensed something else was on his mind and waited for him to continue.

"He also told me something very interesting. It seems that the Genovian ambassador from London will attend tonight's event in very special company."

"And who is this special company."

"Lady Francesca DeLesseps."

The name echoed in her mind but it took some moments before she really understood the importance of this information.

"Excuse me? You can't be serious!"

"I am serious. She's back."

It shocked her how the mere mention of this woman's name could drive her mad.

"Tell Shades to keep her out. Tonight and for the rest of my life!"

"I won't and you won't either," he calmly said while fastening his tie. Ignoring Olivia and her comb Clarisse turned to Joseph. Staring at him she addressed him rather coldly: "Don't you think it's my decision?"

"I think it's time to forgive and forget. Whatever happened, happened a lifetime ago."

Fearing this conversation would end in a disaster Olivia discreetly rushed out of the room leaving the couple alone. After the door had closed Clarisse shook her head and remarked dryly: "I really forget that you used to like her. Some things just never change! But I'm still the Queen of this country and I don't want her to attend!"

She rose from her chair and paced the room. Deep down inside she knew that she must sound like a stupid, jealous brat but she couldn't help it.

"That's hardly the point. Imagine the gossip if you throw her out… tomorrow should be about the coronation, not old hats!… Look, Clarisse, I just think she deserves a second chance. Times have changed. People have changed. She has changed."

"I didn't know you know her that well. Did you invite her? Anyway… That doesn't mean I have to tolerate the woman who ruined my family in my own house!"

"It wasn't entirely her fault and you know it. It isn't that easy, Clarisse!"

She didn't want to hear his point of view and she certainly didn't want to think about it.

The night, the very last night of her reign, promised to end up as a catastrophe and that wasn't what she had planned for this evening. Not at all. Angry with herself, him and the world, she tore her silk cape from the bed and threw it over her bare shoulders. She had chosen the dress with so much love, because she wanted to look beautiful for him but now she just wished the ball was over. Over and forgotten.

"You know I've always wondered what you see in her! Apparently we have different expectations of what it means to be a responsible person!"

"I think what she did was very responsible and well thought-out," and then he added, "it was human."

That hit her deeply. And she was too stunned to answer immediately. His words and his eyes were hurting her.

"Of course, everyone knows that I'm everything but human. Right. I'm the Ice Queen. I'm sorry, sometimes I simply forget about that!"

"I never said something like that about you."

"But you thought it. After all, that's why you wanted to leave me just one week ago."

"I would have never left you," he said louder than intended and made a step forward. He took her hand which was trembling slightly and squeezed it gently. "Not completely. Never." He bent forward and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. It was only a small touch. Light enough not to ruin her lipstick but the warmth of it took immediate possession of her body. She relaxed and leaned into his tight embrace.

"I love you, Joseph."

"And I love you. Now let's go, Your Majesty… Mia is waiting and so is your country."

***

Downstairs in the kitchen, Olivia sank into a chair. She was only too happy to have escaped from that awkward conversation. Hopefully the Queen and her husband wouldn't argue that often. She had always hated arguments and didn't want to witness them if possible.

She heard a giggle and quick steps coming from the stairs and looked up. It was Priscilla who came in. Excited and like a hen on drugs she jumped around the room and took Olivia's hands in hers.

"Olivia! Olivia! Tell me, did he give her the roses?"

"The roses?"

"On her nightstand… are they from His Highness? He didn't ask me to give them into a vase so it must have been you!"

"Me?" Olivia shook her head. "I don't know a thing about them. They were already there when he called me in to fix Her Majesty's hair."

"But…" Confused Priscilla shook her head. "That can't be… when I helped her undressing in the afternoon there were no roses in her room!"

Olivia shrugged and took her shoes off because her feet hurt. The roses didn't matter much to her right now. "Ask Mrs. Kout or Miss Kutaway. Maybe they've put them there. It certainly wasn't me."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

If she could only do something to make her face look less pale. Maybe it was just the light… or the mirror itself… No, she was only fooling herself. It wasn't the light. It wasn't the stupid mirror. It was her. She felt incredible sick and looked like a corpse. White like a wall and with dark rings under her eyes. The last time she had felt that way was when she had met Clarisse Renaldi the last time before she had left Genovia. It had been one of the most unpleasant moments in her life to say the least. The Queen, her Queen, had been very angry with her but what had hurt more was the disappointment in Her Majesties' eyes. She had felt like a fool. A loser. Someone who had failed so badly that time would never erase the traces. People who said time healed all wounds apparently had no idea what they were talking about.

Francesca sighed and swallowed another pill. What was she doing here anyway? She was hiding in the Ladies' room of the Genovian Royal Palace hoping to avoid Clarisse Renaldi for the rest of the evening, because no matter what she said or did, she didn't stand a chance to make her listen. Clarisse wouldn't trust her and why should she? Francesca sighed.  
Nevertheless, she had to talk to the Queen. She owed her at least a warning. Guilt was a horrible thing loving to appear when it was almost too late.

Francesca pulled her make up kit out of her small purse and tried to do some damage control as the door behind her opened and a young woman she only knew from newspapers and magazines came in. It was Princess Mia. After one second of being in shock Francesca turned and made deep curtsy.

"Hello."

"Your Highness."

"Oh please…don't do that… not that deep at least."

Francesca rose again and couldn't hide a smile. She had already heard about the young Princess who hated it when people bowed in front of her.

"Maybe you should get used to it," Francesca remarked carefully and hurried to put her make up back into the small bag.

"Geez, I know, but still…" Mia said nervously and began to adjust her hair. "Honestly I only came in to hide myself for some seconds. My Ladies' Maids got lost on my way here I think."

"It must be a big day for you. I'm sure your grandmother is very proud of you!"

"She said something like that."

Mia turned her head and eyed the older woman curiously. "I don't think we've been introduced so far."

"Oh," Francesca made another bow and said: "Francesca DeLesseps."

"Lady DeLesseps?"

"Yes."

"I see…" Mia said slowly and Francesca stood still fearing the Princess would recognize who she was. "You're from London, right?"

"Yes."

"I just spoke with Andrew about you… you're here because you'll teach at our University! Andrew was very excited to hear that you agreed to come to Genovia. He was very impressed with your work in Oxford!"

"Well…" Francesca blushed.

"Oh no… I'm serious. To have a scientist of your calibre at our university is a real honour! I hope you'll stay around. Isn't Genovia your home country anyway?"

"Yes, it is." Francesca bowed her head to avoid Mia's questioning eyes. The enthusiasm of this young woman was impressive. The princess didn't know yet what she had done to the Royal Family but after one conversation with her grandmother she would change her mind. She decided to enjoy the young woman's kindness as long as it lasted.

"So… I think I have to go back into the lion's den. It was a pleasure to meet you… maybe we can chat later?"

Mia reached out to shake Francesca's hand, which she took after some hesitation. She bowed again.

"Your Highness."

Mia left the room and Francesca closed her eyes. Another thing the young Princess didn't know was that she, Francesca DeLesseps, called Frankie by her family and very close friends, had unintentionally decided over her life even before she had been born.

For the second time this day he wrote the same message on a small little card and put it into another big bouquet of red roses. Aside from the rose dedicated to her, her favourites as he could remember. It was amazing that he could move around the castle tonight without being recognized by anyone, but his people had done an amazing job so far. The right cameras were still switched off and from his view behind the curtains he could see the whole hall. It was filled with noblesse and members of Parliament as well as foreign Royals and his confederates. It was all planned out and only waited to be executed.

He had watched her since she and Joseph had entered the ballroom. She looked simply breathtaking. Beautiful and proud like a swan. Her dress alluring and exposing her slender exquisite figure without appearing to be tasteless. Indeed, her elegance was overwhelming, her moves more royal than royalty itself. The perfect Queen. She had been born to become Queen and she knew it although she had always laughed when someone had told her so in the past.

But today she knew it. And still she had given up on that privilege to be the wife of someone unworthy of her. To make space for someone who wasn't ready to take over her legacy. Maybe the loss of Philippe had broken her to some degree… maybe her loneliness had taken over so that she had given herself to the first man around who had been willing to give her what she had needed, but all this couldn't justify her lack of common sense and devotion. He couldn't let her to this. He couldn't let her "retire" and leave his country in incompetent hands. And he needed her to be his. Once and for all. After all, it was their destiny.

Clarisse took a sip from her champagne and tried to blank out the people and the noise around her for some moments. Her mind was over flooded with emotions, memories and visions, but she had no time to allow any of this to distract her, because people demanded her attention. She had to smile, to laugh and to listen. She had done so her whole adult life and even longer, but today, her last day as Queen, it wasn't easy to accomplish the mission of appearing perfect. The roses, her argument with Joseph (the very first one since she had married him) and the knowledge that Francesca DeLesseps was around had shaken her world to a degree that was dangerously affecting her composure.

She was nervous. It felt as if some mischief was lying in the air. The strange feeling of something being deeply wrong. The last time she had felt this way her son had died… she had been a nervous wreck the whole day for no reason and in the evening she had gotten a call that had shattered her world and later her faith in God. What she was feeling right now was similar, but since her life was about to change dramatically she was hoping it was the upcoming coronation, which included her abdication and caused her inner turmoil. She turned away and emptied her glass hoping no one would see how she simply exed half a glass of champagne.

As discreetly as possible she put the glass back on a table behind her and startled when the Prime Minister suddenly appeared behind her.

"Your Majesty?"

"Sebastian!"

She gave him a quick smile, but he didn't return it. He looked quite seriously at her. Were there a few drops of sweat on his forehead?

"Sebastian, are you alright?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dried his face. "It's just that you should know something is going on. I just received a call from the Home Secretary… our Secret Service just arrested a man who claimed to know that someone is going to sabotage the coronation tomorrow."

"What? Who?"

"The man is still interviewed. But I can assure you that our security level has been raised to the highest standard!"

Clarisse swallowed and found herself automatically searching for Joseph, but she couldn't locate him within all those people.

"Where is Joseph?"

"I've already told him. He's trying to find out what is going on. Please, Your Majesty, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. The man is might be only charlatan! The Princess and you are completely safe!"

Clarisse swallowed and resisted her instinct to get another glass of champagne or something stronger. Getting drunk wasn't a good idea if she wanted to survive this evening.

Helen Thermopoulis and her daughter were standing a bit aside from the rest of the other people and watched the dancing and chatting crowd. The atmosphere was light but the more often she looked at her watch and saw that midnight was coming closer Mia got more nervous. What if she wouldn't enlighten her eternal flame and simply mess it up again? When she had practiced with Nicholas she had succeeded but Nicholas wasn't here now. He wouldn't be at her side and that was what worried her. His assuring smile was what she needed and his belief in her. Her mother couldn't help her and her Grandmother would hardly be able to tell her how to use the bow and the arrow… actually Clarisse Renaldi sucked at archery she had told her just a few days ago. And thank god it had been Rupert's mission (King Rupert, may he rest in peace!) shooting that arrow through the circle before they had been crowned all those years ago.

"Nervous?" Helen asked and caressed her cheek.

"A bit… this is all very exciting - and unreal!"

"I know. But you'll make it. You're an amazing person, Mia. Your grandmother and I really believe in you!"

Mia gave her mother a warm smile and hugged her: "Thank you, Mom! I'm so glad you're here at my side!"

"Always, Darling!" Helen patted her daughter's shoulder and released her again. Then her eyes caught something she couldn't quite believe.

"Oh my god… what is she doing here?"

Mia turned and followed her mother's eyes. She was staring at Francesca DeLesseps who was standing next to a man she knew was the Genovian Ambassador in London.

"That's Francesca DeLesseps," Mia said. "I just met her in the Ladies' Room. She's very nice."

"And alive… I would have bet my best paintings that the Queen would never allow her to attend tonight's ball or any other official occasion here in Genovia again!"

Astonished about her mother's shocked face Mia asked: "Why? What has she done?"

"If you thought your Grandmother never approved of me you certainly have no idea what she thinks about her!"

"Are we absolutely sure about this?" Joe asked again and gave Shades a stern look. Naturally, the younger man was extremely nervous, but that wasn't of help right now and it certainly wouldn't protect the present and the future Queen of Genovia who both happened to be very dear to him.

After the Prime Minister had talked to him Joe had pulled Shades onto the empty terrace. Although no one seemed to be around they kept their voices low and their eyes always moved to locate any kind of figure that didn't belong there.

"We know nothing, Sir. Only what the Prime Minister knows from the Home Secretary which isn't very much. Maybe, it's nothing. Just a crazy guy with strange ideas!"

"Alright." Joe looked around trying to estimate the situation. The guests around were enjoying themselves, so far no one had behaved strangely and at the entrance everyone had gone through a security check. Could Clarisse and Mia not be safe in here? By any chance?

"What will do, Sir?" Shades asked. He knew he was in charge now, but Joe was here and if someone knew what to do in such a situation it was him. He had caught two assassins who had once tried to kill King Rupert and he had caught a bullet for him. HE knew it. He simply had to. Royal Highness, Duke or whatever he was now.

"So far nothing. Keep patrolling and inform me about everything! If someone coughs or spills his champagne I want to know it!"

"Yes, Sir."

Shades nodded feeling more secure again. With Joe in charge nothing could go wrong.

Joseph returned into the ballroom. His eyes were wandering around, but he couldn't find Clarisse. He tried to keep himself under control. He had gone through all this a hundred times before. First as bodyguard and later as Head of Security, but he had to admit that keeping his cool head had been easier back then. Before she had become that important to him. Before he could acknowledge his feelings for her to himself. Before his job had become his life.

"Your Highness?"

While passing the buffet a gentle voice, coloured by a rarely heard British accent reached his ear. He turned and didn't know if to smile or not, although the well-known face made it hard for him not to show a kind attitude towards her.

"Frankie. So, you're really here."

"Yes, the lion's den called and I obliged."

Now he had to smile. "How are you?"

"I'm… okay," she said and bit her lips. Actually, she didn't look well, but maybe she was just nervous… he couldn't blame her for being.

"It's been a long time… twenty years?"

"Twenty-one to be exact."

"How time flies…"

"Indeed even without having fun," she made a pause, collected some courage and asked, "I know it's maybe impropriate to ask but… I was wondering if you could ask Her Majesty if I could have an audience with her."

Joe made a face. He knew she was sincere but after their argument some hours ago he was quite sure Clarisse wouldn't give her the opportunity to speak.

"You know…"

"Your Highness, please… I need to talk to her. It's important! Please!"

"Your Highness?" He raised an eyebrow. He had forgotten what he had always liked about Francesca. Just as Clarisse she was a lady. Every inch of her. And she knew her boundaries.

"Isn't that your title?" Now it was on her to blink at him.

"Call me Joe as you did before. Too much formality doesn't suit me."

"Alright, Joe. Will you ask her on my behalf? For old times' sake?"

"Speaking about old times here is not the right strategy to get what you want…but let me see what I can do for you." He gave her a nod and turned.

"Thank you." She said with a gentle smile and remained at the buffet while Joe looked out for his wife. Clarisse had to be somewhere… And she was. Just a few meters away from him. Lord Palimore was standing next to her. The old man was talking her to death it seemed while her eyes were only fixed at one point. Him. He could read in her face that she had watched Francesca and him talking. And that she didn't like what she had seen.

Joe passed a group of chatting politicians to get to her, but she quickly apologised to the Lord and escaped the room. She took the way into the west wing of the palace and Joseph followed her as quickly and discreetly as he could. The last thing he needed right now was Clarisse being angry with him. Not in this situation.

"Clarisse!" He said firmly and tried to grab her arm, but she avoided him skilfully and slipped through one of the security doors that were almost invisible for the eyes. He placed his foot between the closing door and the frame and followed Clarisse into the dark narrow hallway where the noises of the decadent gathering they had just left were hardly audible.

"Stay here!"

Blindly he caught her arm and pressed her against the wall.

"Let me go!"

"No. Not before we've cleared that up!"

He dove his left hand in his trousers pocket to search for a lighter while his other hand laid on her shoulder. He couldn't stand the darkness around them and hoped to have it with him.

"I thought we had already cleared it up! I asked you not to talk to her!"

"I never said I wouldn't talk to her! And you running away isn't very sensible, my dear!"

He gave up searching for the lighter and cursed lowly what she ignored. She scoffed: "You betrayed me!"

"That's rubbish and you know it!"

Silence. Their heated exchange of words suddenly ended and Clarisse bent her head back and sighed. When she spoke again her anger had almost vanished and Joe relaxed sensing that she wasn't really angry with him. She was just as nervous as he was. Today's evening wasn't what it should have been. Was that a bad omen for the future?

"What's wrong today, Joseph? I feel like everything is slipping away from me!"

"The last days were not exactly calm... but it'll get better soon."

"If nothing goes wrong," she stated and played with the collar of his jacket. She didn't want to pretend that she wasn't worried or ignoring the rumours about an upcoming sabotage of the coronation. "What do you know?"

"Nothing. I don't think you have to worry about anything… it's only a lunatic who has watched too many bad movies." He kissed the tip of her nose and then her mouth. "Don't worry. You're safe." He kissed her again. Longer this time and deeper. The silk scarf that covered her naked shoulder had fallen aside and he touched her warm skin at the crook of her neck. God, she felt so good… soft and… "And Mia's safe too."

He leaned against her and she took her time to find some solace in his nearness. The warmth of his hand on her shoulder assured her and gave her strength. Her confidence had risen since she had been together with him and it always amazed her how much strength he could actually give her with a simple touch or a glance from his dark eyes. "I feel safer with you. Even when you talk to other beautiful women," she added and he pulled back in surprise. It was too dark to see her face but he could feel her eyes resting on him. Was she really jealous?

"She didn't make a pass at me… and even though I gave up comparing women to you a long time ago there's no danger of my attention towards you faltering."

"You say that now… but one day when I'll start to bore you or just look too old, you'll be happy about every young woman who…" He interrupted her with another kiss that became so passionate that they had to separate to catch their breath.

"I wish we had more time to discuss this but we haven't. She wants an audience with you."

"No."

"Clarisse…"

"I said no!"

"She hasn't broken your heart! What happened, happened between Pierre and her!"

"Oh, what do you know?!"

Why couldn't he understand that she simply didn't want to talk to this woman? She didn't even want to consider it. God, she hated it when he was pursuing something like that…

"I know enough… and I know you. I know you liked her very much! I even know how much you'd seen yourself in her when she was young – and don't deny it! I've seen it!…" He made a pause and added tenderly: "Give her a chance. If not for her then because of me!"

"That isn't what I call fair play!"

"No, it's not… but you love me, don't you? You would do anything for me. Your words, not mine."

Now he was glad about the darkness around them, because if she had seen his smile she would have slapped him for being so damn self-righteous.

"You know I would… you awful… piece of…"

"What?" He was tempted to allure her into another kiss but she wouldn't do him the favour and said briskly: "A Queen never says it out loud! And now out of my way! The show must go on."

She playfully pushed him aside and he could hear that she was adjusting her dress. He smiled and took out his handkerchief to wipe away the lipstick she had left on his mouth. A relationship with Clarisse was certainly not as boring as many people in this country might be thinking.

***

Outside the Palace Elsie Kentworthy did some posing in front of the camera. Her make up was perfect, her smile plastered on her face. She was ready and if she was lucky, some pretty nice scandal would shake things up. The last week had been the most exciting of her journalistic life. The Queen and her young granddaughter had topped themselves with the drastic changes in their private lives. A Queen marrying her bodyguard and a crown princess bewitching a conservative Parliament had been something Genovia had never seen before. And she, Elsie Kentworthy, had become a hit. Big tabloids and TV stations all over Europe knew her name and who knew… if the rumours were true and something big happened tonight or tomorrow at the coronation she could wave Genovia Goodbye and become the new Oprah of Europe… she could have her own TV show… magazines, a publishing house… everything she wanted if she could take off with a new story. She was Europe's new rising star in the journalism sky.

"And action!"

Elsie's smile brightened if possible as she started to speak: "Good evening. This is Elsie Kentworthy in front of the Genovian Royal Palace. In less than one hour our future Queen, Princess Mia, will enlighten her eternal flame right here in front of her future Palace, before she'll be crowned tomorrow morning. Right behind me in the Palace a grand ball is held by the Queen herself. At 8 pm this evening Her Majesty, in an exquisite ball gown that not only brought her male admiration and attention, and the new man at her side, the freshly knighted and handsome Duke of Pyrus, had opened the ball which is the beginning of the official celebrations…"

She had hardly breathed since Charlotte, the Queen's assistant had secretly given her the news that her Majesty was willing to give her an audience. That was indeed more than she had hoped for. At least she allowed her to speak to her again… at least.

Francesca looked around. She hadn't been in the Throne Room for two decades. It felt still as frightening as it did twenty years ago. And it was still laughable that she was once considered to become the woman who should replace Clarisse Renaldi in here.

Her glance fell onto the portrait of the late King (May he rest in peace) and his wife. If the rumours were true it was possible that Mia's painting wouldn't follow the one of her grandparents'. But if the Queen listened to her she could help to protect this dynasty and its country from a major catastrophe.

"Lady DeLesseps."

Francesca whirled around and found the Queen standing behind her. She made a deep curtsy and bowed her head humbly hoping it would underline the deep respect she had for the Queen.

"Your Majesty."

"Joseph said you wanted to talk to me." Clarisse indicated to Francesca that she could straighten up with a small gesture of her hand. She wanted to avoid Clarisse's eyes but it was impossible. The older woman seemed to examine every inch of her appearance without missing one single detail. The Queen wouldn't make it easy for her but she had expected that.

"Yes, Ma'am," her fingers clenched. She had practised this conversation about a thousand times over the last few hours but now that she was standing in front of her Queen she couldn't say a word. Her mouth was dry and instead of going straight to the point she kept sneaking around the bushes: "First I… I don't know if you ever got my letter… I'm sorry about Philippe. It really got to me when I heard about the accident… I liked him very much."

"Thank you." What else could she say? Clarisse raised an eyebrow. The death of her youngest son wasn't exactly the subject she had expected Francesca to talk about. As always, the mentioning of his name hurt. The pain had steadily faded over the years but it was still there and it would always be there.

"Is that all?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"So?"

Francesca took a deep breath. This wasn't easy, not at all. "I just came from London… Claude Deboir, the Ambassador and I… well… we heard some rumours. Apparently, there are people out there who aren't very excited about the fact that Princess Mia will succeed you as our Monarch."

Clarisse gave her a suspicious look and made a step towards her: "You're not the first one who says that. What do you know?"

"I know that Claude told the Prime Minister about his suspicions."

"And he told me, after someone was arrested at the border for saying exactly the same. So again: what do you know?"

Frankie closed her eyes and collected her thoughts. This was sensitive… very sensitive. "Last week, after your wedding, there was a strange meeting in London… in absolute secrecy. We only heard about it, because we heard from sources of the Secret Service that those people arrived in the UK. They met in the Ritz and their gathering was covered as a meeting of an organisation for Historical Sciences, but after some research I found out that this organisation had been dissolved after the Second World War."

She made a pause and waited for Clarisse to react to this.

"And who attended? What did they discuss?"

"Well, as far as we know members of right-wing circles of Genovia, old noblesse, a few politicians living in exile… and…"

"And?"

"Pierre."

"Pierre."

"Yes, he was there. I couldn't believe it either, but I saw him… in London. We met there and after some questions to the right persons I found out he had met the other people I mentioned before. He wasn't alone. He had company from someone we couldn't identify so far."

Clarisse swallowed. She remembered her last conversation with Pierre. She hadn't believed in his threats and had thought he had talked out of bitterness towards her when he said that things would change in Genovia.

"I don't know what the meaning of all this is... I can't even tell you if Pierre is involved in any of it. I don't even know if you're in danger or not but I wanted you to know it," Francesca said eagerly. It was important to her to explain this.

"And why are you telling me this? Couldn't you just send an email? Or do you have a conscious after all?"

That hit but she continued as steadily as her voice allowed her to. "I thought it's my duty to tell you. Living here or not, being welcomed here or not – Genovia was and will always be my home country."

Clarisse gave her a hurt look. She knew she had promised Joseph and she had tried, but deep down inside the anger was stronger and it mixed with the fear for the events that might lie ahead of her…

"It could have been so much for you. I believed in you… and my son loved you. He is what he is today because he had lost his way when you decided to leave him two weeks before your wedding!"

Francesca bowed her head and decided to endure the Queen's lashing out on her. She had had it coming after all. And asking for forgivingness wasn't her style and it was too late for it anyway.

"Clarisse?"

While the women had been talking Joseph had entered the room. Almost invisible and inaudible as always he had waited till Clarisse had finished her tirade before he came out of shadows.

"Yes?" She asked with her eyes still resting on Francesca.

"It's time. Mia's preparing for the archery."

"Of course. Lady Delesseps." She gave the younger woman who deeply curtsied again a short nod and left the room. Joe gave Francesca a sympathetic look and turned to follow his wife back into the ballroom.

"She'll never forgive me, right?" Francesca asked into the silent room and Joe stopped. His face was expressionless as always when he answered: "You don't exactly look like someone who has forgiven herself, my dear."

***

Charlotte rushed down the hallway with a beautiful bouquet of red roses on her arm. Apparently, they had been sent for Her Majesty to honour her last day as Queen. At least that was what the deliveryman had told the footman who had taken the roses. Or maybe it was another gift from Joseph for her Majesty.

"Your Majesty?"

Charlotte reached the Queen who stood at the balustrade at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Charlotte?" She asked and Charlotte saw immediately that her boss wasn't exactly in a good mood.

"I was asked to give you these." She showed her the bouquet and again the response wasn't what she had hoped for. Clarisse raised her left eyebrow but didn't take the roses or the small card that stuck in them.

"Who gave them to you?"

"A footman. He received them from a deliveryman." Seeing the Queen's uneasiness she added: "It passed the security checks."

"I see…," She hesitated but then she took the card and opened it. Charlotte smiled but looked away politely.

"With all my love" No signature.

Clarisse squeezed her eyes shut and gave Charlotte the card back.

"Put them down into the kitchen or give them to Baroness Von Troken. Whatever you do I don't want to see them in my rooms!"

Charlotte was shocked but nodded in obedience. She watched Clarisse as she went gracefully down the stairs and then she turned to get rid off the roses.

She was glad that she could recover from the shock for some seconds before Joseph met her at the stairs and gently took her arm.

"That went well," he said a bit sarcastically but tried to soften his words with a gentle smile.

"I did my best."

"I know and still… we shouldn't ignore what she told us."

They talked in low voices while around them the people gathered to follow them outside into the Palace Garden where Mia would enlighten her eternal flame.

"Her Majesty, Queen Clarisse Renaldi and His Royal Highness, the Duke of Pyrus!"

Then footman at the top of the stairs announced and Clarisse and Joe started slowly to move outside.

"I'm sure my son is not involved in any political scheme that could threaten Mia or me!" she said and faked a smile at the Von Trokens while she passed them on her way out on the terrace.

As much as he could understand her deliberate ignorance when it came to her son as much was he worried about it. Pierre had threatened her some days ago. And if Francesca was right about Pierre and his meeting with those people outside the country who knew what was going on. The web steadily tightened around them and he felt instinctively that it wouldn't take much longer before they were trapped.

"I hope so, Clarisse… I really hope so…"

Amelia Thermopoulis Renaldi's hands were trembling as she lifted the bow and arrow to start writing her own history. It was a cold evening and the wind was stronger than on the numerous times she had practiced archery. But this was the moment of truth after all and she couldn't disappoint her grandmother and Genovia.

"The ceremony of shooting of the flaming arrow through the coronation ring."

She took a deep breath and placed the arrow at the corner of her mouth as Nicholas had told her to do. She aimed and prayed she wouldn't fail. She released the arrow but then she jerked aside, the arrow ended somewhere on the grass and a scream escaped her throat. The crowd behind her gasped and Shades, Lionel and Joe immediately appeared at Mia's side.

Joe's eyes narrowed as he saw a man dressed in a dark cloak and a hat pulled deeply over his face crossing the garden and coming towards them.

"I thought I shoot him!" Mia pointed at him and Joe stroked reassuringly her arm. Shades made a gesture and several security men hidden in the bushes and in the crowd stormed towards the sinister figure. The man didn't fight the men as they overwhelmed him. Shades followed his team but before he reached them the man he suddenly stopped.

Clarisse stood next to the Prime Minister and his wife. She lifted herself up to her tiptoes to see what was going on but she could only see Shades back.

In the meantime Joe had wrapped his arm around Mia and rubbed her arm.

"It's alright, Princess. I'm sure we can continue soon!"

"Who can this be?"

"I don't know." Joe could see that Shades and the man were talking hectically. He didn't seem to be armed, to be seriously dangerous and yet something was wrong with him. The atmosphere had changed and according to the unease in his stomach something was about to happen. Every instinct in him screamed, "Alarm" the whole evening and now all the signal lights were red.

He turned his head and his eyes searched for Clarisse. Due to the cold outside she had wrapped herself in her silk scarf and gave him a weak smile. He could see that she was afraid but as always put on her cool façade to appear invincible.

And then it happened. Her facial expression changed rapidly. Her jaw dropped and she became pale. He expected a scream out of her mouth but instead her whole body faltered and Sebastian Motaz caught her in the second her body threatened to drop to the ground. The ball guests gasped again in shock and more and more security men appeared to make sure no panic would build up.

"Clarisse!"

He was already on his way to her as Mia's scream reached his ear.

"Oh my god, Joe!" Mia, completely in panic, tore at his sleeve and pointed at the man on the grass with her free hand. "Look, Joe!" His first impulse was to ignore Mia to run to Clarisse who the Prime Minster was still holding but Mia's grip tightened around his arm and she forced him to turn his attention back to the crowd around the man on the grass. His heart stopped beating for a second and the world seemed to stand still… it couldn't be.

"Your Majesty!"

Sheila Motaz shook Clarisse's shoulder. The Prime Minster himself was trembling with fear. The Queen lay collapsed in his arms. What if she had a stroke? Or a heart attack?

"We need a doctor!"

"Don't worry, Sebastian. I'll take care of my mother!"

Out of nowhere Pierre Renaldi, dressed in his usual black suit, appeared and picked his unconscious mother gently up from politician's arms.

"But how… why…?"

"Later, Minister. You see she needs some rest. This is a big evening for Genovia!"  
With his head he pointed at the stranger who was now taking off his hat and his cloak.

"Oh my god!"

Sheila searched instinctively for her husband's hand and squeezed it tightly. Pierre smiled when the man walked fast and steadily towards Mia and Joseph. Joe pulled Mia protectively back and stepped in front of her but the man ignored him and just took the bow out of her hand. He shouted some orders at a footman Sebastian couldn't understand but seconds later a flaming arrow flew straight through the coronation ring and enflamed the ring.

Joe turned his head and his eyes met Pierre's. He gave his mother's husband a strange smile and carried his mother out of the Palace Garden.


	5. Chapter 4

**Thanks for all the kind and wonderful reviews! I really appreciate them! **

**Chapter 4**

The room was bathed in the small light of the lamp on the nightstand, because he was afraid the harsh light would disturb her when she woke up. It seemed an eternity since he had spent time alone with his mother. When he came home for Christmas or other family occasions they had always been surrounded by other people and just like she had never asked him for a private conversation he had never asked her for one. They had simply slipped away from each other over the years. And since he had known about his mother's relationship to Joseph he had seen her in a different way.

He had tried to hate her and had told himself that she simply wasn't the woman he had adored. Not just as his beautiful mother but also as his Queen. She had become a stranger to him. He had really tried to convince himself that her being human had killed the woman he had put on a pedestal and that nothing could bring her back. But now that she was right here next to him, unconscious after she had received the shock of her life, he couldn't exactly name why his perception of her had changed. It didn't seem to matter any longer. She was his mother. The woman had given life to him and raised him. She was funny, warm-hearted and loving as long her duties as sovereign didn't interfere. He hated that she wasn't well. It hurt him. He wished they hadn't had to scare her, but she would have refused to acknowledge the truth otherwise. The way she was obviously attached to Joseph had made it impossible for him to tell her what was going on. The man had blinded and ensnared over the years and God knew what she would have done to stop tonight's events. Maybe, she didn't forgive him for a long time, but it had been the only way to make sure that the Genovian Royal Family would find back to its old glory. One day she would understand him. One day when their family would be reunited again.

The door opened and Olivia and Priscilla came in. Both were pale and nervous. What happened outside in the Palace Garden had spread like a wildfire.

"Your Highness… the doctor's here," Olivia announced with a trembling voice and stepped aside to let a shaking Charlotte and the doctor inside the bedroom. Pierre kissed his mother's forehead and rose from his chair. After she had woken up her period of grace would be over.

"I'm sorry, Mama."

Outside the Palace a panic had arisen and the security forces faced the hard job making sure the guests didn't try to overwhelm them to get closer to the stranger. People screamed and got almost violent against Shades and his men. It was a lot harder to keep the press away, known as Elsie Kentworthy and her crew. The sensation-seeking journalist had even managed to climb over a fence after Shades had shut her out but thanks to Lionel who "accidentally" threw a stone into the camera lens she couldn't take any more pictures and she also was arrested which would keep her away for the night. After Joe had entrusted Mia to Francesca and the wife of the Prime Minister he had finally dared to go near the man who had lit the eternal flame. He had seen the man's face from afar, but didn't believe what his eyes had told him. It was impossible. Dead people couldn't come back. Not even if the person once had been a King by God's grace.

The closer he came the more he felt like living a nightmare. He knew this face, he knew the eyes, he knew the figure. The man was surrounded by a crowd of security men and Prime Minister Motaz who was sweating a lot although the temperature outside kept dropping.

When Sebastian saw Joe he stepped aside to give him the opportunity to join them. Joe stared at the man and tried to figure out the one little detail that would expose the man for what he was: an impostor. The King was dead.

Unfortunately, the only person who could act as witness had collapsed at the sight of a man who looked like the King and her first husband.

His only comfort now was that Charlotte took care of Clarisse and would make sure Pierre didn't have the chance to pull a stunt and bring her out of the Palace.

"Joseph!" The man hinted a small bow. "I've been asking myself when you would arrive."

"I can imagine that. I have the impression we have a problem here." He abstained from making a bow. The man wasn't the King. His eyes stayed focused on him, though.

"I'm sorry, but I saw no other chance to introduce myself. It wasn't my intention to scare anyone. Especially not my wife," he said politely and looked at the crazy crowd on the side. "I don't know how you feel, but I think we should go inside. Things seem to get out of hand here." He pointed at the crowd behind them. One security man already had a bleeding nose and was lying on the ground.

Joe and the Prime Minister exchanged a long look. They didn't like the idea of him entering the Palace, but what chance did they have? They couldn't discuss the matter in the Palace Garden with all those people around who seemed close to storm the scenery.

"Joe, you're the Master of the Manor," Sebastian finally said and Joe nodded. "We should go inside."

"The Blue Salon, I would say…," the so-called King suggested openly and reluctantly Joe agreed again.

"Shades, stay here and make sure no one follows us! And take care of Tom! His face looks quite crashed!" Joe ordered and invited the small group into the Palace with a grand gesture.

When she woke up her head ached. Her eyes burnt and her throat was dry. She didn't even know where she was. She blinked but decided that even the soft light was too much for her eyes and closed them again.

"Your Majesty?"

She felt a hand on her forehead and then at her wrist.

"Madam, are you awake?"

She moved and placed her hand over her eyes. "What happened?" She mumbled still dazed. "You fainted, Ma'am."

"I did what?" A Queen never fainted. She removed her hand from her eyes and tried to rise from the bed but became even dizzier because of the quick movement. Charlotte caught her by her arm. "Careful, Your Majesty. Maybe, you should stay in bed a little longer. Lie down, please."

She rested her head on the pillow again. Why did she faint? What had happened to her?

"Can you remember anything?" The doctor, a gentle man around Clarisse's age and a gentle attitude, asked while checking her pulse. Clarisse squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated. She knew she had been outside waiting for Mia to shoot the arrow through the ring… but she never did…

"Oh my God…," she said and covered her face with her palms. "I saw him. He was there all of a sudden… or at least I thought I saw him… but this can't be! It can't be!" She repeated the same sentence over and over in her head. It became a mantra. Dead people couldn't come back.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I think you should know that you didn't dream," Charlotte explained as gently as possible. "The man really looked like King Rupert." She didn't add the "May he rest in peace" because after today no one knew if that was true. "Joe and the others are trying to find out what is going on. Your son is outside though. Shall I let him in?"

For some long, torturing moments Clarisse didn't answer. If Pierre was in the Palace he had something to do with all this. Suddenly his warnings and his strange behaviour made sense, but she didn't have the strength to cope with him right now. She ached for Joseph and that he would tell her that everything was just a bad dream.

"Charlotte, how sure can we be that it's not him?"

The answer came after a moment of hesitation and it didn't sound very confident. "I don't think we can be sure of anything, Ma'am."

Uneasy like a tiger in a cage Francesca paced the hallway. After Shades had found her with Mia and Helen in Joe's old office he had told her to bring Mia into the Blue Salon where Joe, the Prime Minister and the mysterious shooter would join them. At first, Helen had been reluctant about leaving Mia alone with the lunatic nearby, but Francesca had managed to convince her to stay with her husband and her baby, because Mia would be safe in a room with Joe.

"He won't let anyone hurt Mia, Helen. Just trust him," she had said and Helen had agreed.

Whoever the mysterious man was, he had a certain instinct for drama. She remembered King Rupert as a glamorous man on state occasions and a shy man in private. Someone who, behind his masks of royalty and composure, very much depended on the support and dedication of his wife. A gentle man who never knew how to express his emotions, especially when it came to his two sons. Would that man - who was dead by the way - pull such a stunt and have a comeback like that? She hardly believed it, but on the other hand, who was she to make such a statement? She had left this country 20 years ago. She hadn't been there when the Kind had died.

"Lady DeLesseps?" Sebastian Motaz rushed down the hallway. "I'm glad you haven't left yet. We could use your help!"

"My help?" She was astonished and turned pale. She didn't want to get involved in this. Not officially. "Yes, you're the only expert around."

"Expert for what?"

"Constitution. History."

Frankie narrowed her eyebrows. "We don't even know who this man is and you start talking about…" Sebastian lifted his hand to interrupt her. "I'm afraid we have no other choice. I want you to be there. You knew the King as well. You have the knowledge of our history and you possess a lot pf political expertise. Talk to him."

"I don't think Her Majesty would approve of me being there." It was her last attempt to protect herself from getting drawn into this. She didn't want to make that battle hers. This was simply too close to her personal life.

The politician, however, had other plans. When he addressed her this time his voice was sharper than she had ever heard before. "She's hardly in the condition to make that decision right now. Besides, you've already robbed Genovia off one Queen. Don't add another one! You owe us this!"

***

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but she needs some rest. Let her sleep tonight and talk to her in the morning." What the doctor told Pierre was a lie ,but since Her Majesty demanded not to talk to her son, he did his best to avoid this situation for her.

"Is something wrong with her?" Pierre asked clearly worried now. For the last half hour he had impatiently paced the room waiting for the doctor to come out again.

"She is in shock. I gave her a sleeping pill and an injection. Tomorrow she should be fine again. I told Miss Kutaway everything you need to know."

"Alright, Doctor. Thank you very much for everything." They shook hands and the doctor left the suite. Pierre's' eyes rested on the door to his mother's bedroom. He longed to go in there to talk to her but maybe it was his time to leave for now. Tomorrow was another day and he was needed somewhere else. He was sure that his father was already talking to the Prime Minister and other members of Parliament.

***

The Blue Salon was a part of the Official State Rooms in the Palace used for occasions like receptions for state guests. It had received its name from the blue ornaments on the ceiling which showed the illustrated history of Genovia from its Independence until the coronation of King Rupert and Queen Clarisse. To add Mia had already been scheduled for the week after the coronation. Why did the man who claimed to be the not-so-late King want to talk to them in here? It was a brilliant move from his side to show them that he knew exactly what he was doing. And it showed he was dangerous man. A force to be reckoned with. That was only one of the thoughts and questions running through Joe's head while they were waiting for Motaz. Mia didn't leave Joe's side while her eyes clung to the man who had said he was her grandfather. The shock was written all over her, but at least she was better than Clarisse. He would give his life to be with her right now, but he had the feeling he should be here with Mia. Clarisse would tell him the very same and insist that he did everything in his power to protect Mia and their legacy.

"You were never a man of many words, Joseph but tonight you're very quiet." The "King" stood at the fireplace his arm resting on the mantelpiece. Above him hung the portrait of Rupert's father King Claude Renaldi. "I can assure you, the situation is as uncomfortable for me as for you." He had taken off his cloak, now wearing the uniform of the Genovian Guard of Honour. Joseph knew the military honours and the orders he wore. They all had belonged to King Rupert. Where did the man get this uniform?

"Is that so?"

"Indeed. I wish I could've met my wife and my beautiful grandchild in a less… dramatic way, but after that ridiculous wedding of yours I had to act quickly."

"But…" Joe squeezed Mia's hand to keep her silent and said: "I don't think you can judge Clarisse and my marriage."

"She had no right to remarry and to abdicate," the man said sternly and crossed his arms behind his back and started pacing the room.

"Parliament insisted on her abdication. She had no choice but to prepare Mia to take over so soon."

"Please, Joseph. Motaz literally eats out of her hand. If she had wanted, she could have found a way to prolong her tenure. But she only saw her chance to escape all this to be with you. Did the two of you really believe you could get away with this? Cheating on me and finally sail into the sunset leaving my country in the hands of a woman who is barely an adult?"

"King Rupert used to trust his wife and her decisions," Joseph stated hoping to provoke a reaction that would show the man's true colours. Futilely, he gave Joseph a smile and responded matter-of-factly: "Seems that the influences on her changed in the last seven years."

The accusation hung in the air but the explosion was postponed when Prime Minister Motaz and Francesca entered the Salon.

"I've asked Lady DeLesseps to join us, if you don't mind," Sebastian announced and gave the so-called-King a look. "You'll agree with me that her expertise is invaluable in this situation."

"As you wish, Sebastian," he made a bow and turned to Francesca. "It's been a long time, Francesca. How's your family? Your husband, your children?"

"My children are fine and my husband is dead. As far as I know…," she added ironically.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I heard he was one of best archaeologists of our times. But please, give your father my best wishes. He's a very good friend of mine."

"Excuse me, but my family is hardly the subject… You are. Forgive me but how is it that you're alive?"

"As I see you still waste no time with small talk. That's a long story and I would like to tell it in the company of Her Majesty. Don't you think she should be around?"

"You won't come near to her," Joseph declared coldly.

"Your decision or hers?"

"Gentlemen," Sebastian interrupted. "Please, at least tell us what you've come for or I'll have you taken into arrest."

Francesca joined Mia on the uncomfortable chaiselongue and gave her an encouraging smile. Knowing exactly how to present himself their visitor placed himself in front of the fireplace under the portrait of Kind Claude and explained: "Please, believe me that at the time I had to stage my death, I didn't plan to return. I had hoped that my wife and later my son would rule Genovia in my stead. It hurt to leave my family, but at that point in my life I had no other choice. You'll have to admit though that events of the last weeks foreshadow the downfall of Genovia and our family. I saw no other way to stop this."

"Which leads me to the question why you chose to pretend to die…," Francesca said.

"An illness, Milady. A very rare and aggressive blood disease. I couldn't demand from my country and my wife to see this through with me since the chances for me to recover were almost nonexistent."

"So, you faked your death, disappeared and received a treatment…that actually worked?" The disbelief in Frankie's voice was evident but the man ignored it. "Exactly. I have the documents which prove the truth and I'll present them to Parliament as soon as our dear Prime Minister has called in a session."

"They won't believe you," Joseph spat out. "That fairy tale won't convince anyone!"

"It will, because it's the truth. And nothing but the truth. God is my witness."

"Clarisse was by the King's side when he died."

"She was asleep."

"Please," Francesca raised her hand to stop the men from arguing. "Since you seem to demand a session in Parliament to plead your case I assume you want to claim your right to the throne. And your wife."

The man made a small bow. "So…," she rose from the chaiselongue and moved slowly towards him. "So, you want to reinstate a law which was passed in1869 after King Chevalier demanded his right to the throne back after Parliament accidentally declared him dead after he had disappeared in a battle against France. Very clever. And very well thought out."

"1839," he corrected her. "Nice attempt, Milady, but don't play games with me. A scientist of your knowledge shouldn't play so low and try to outsmart me with wrong dates. But yes, you're right. Parliament seconded the motion and King Chevalier was reinstated as ruler of Genovia."

"Well, if you have a logical explanation of how we could bury an empty coffin which wasn't empty when the King's body was laid out in the ballroom and how you could recover from your strange and very rare illness, then you maybe stand a chance," Sebastian summarised. "But until then – look-alike to King Rupert or not – you have no right to stay here."

"I'm very much aware of that. But don't try to fool me. I expect you to call in a session in Parliament within the next 24 hours as well as I demand to talk to Her Majesty."

"Dream on," Joseph said. "You're nothing but an impostor and you won't get a chance to tell her your fairy tale!"

"I'm not the one who manipulates her!"

"I can vouch for that." Pierre had entered the Salon and joined the small group. He did his best to avoid the sight of Francesca, but Joe noticed that he was watching her from the corner of his eyes.

"How's your mother?"

"Asleep."

"I see… well, since this meeting won't lead us anywhere I should leave now."

"Where will you stay?" Sebastian demanded to know but the answer was a strange smile. "I'll be back, Sebastian. But I'm glad you still care for my well-being."

Sebastian looked at Francesca asking with his eyes whether he should arrest the man or not. She exchanged a glance with Joe and shook her head. That would only play in his hands.

"If you'll excuse me now. Pierre, give your mother my best wishes and my apologies. I hope to explain everything to her as soon as possible."

"I will, Father." The men embraced and then the older man left the room. As the door shut close Mia jumped from her seat and asked angrily: "Why can't we arrest him? Or hang him by his toes in our courtyard?"

"Because he is dangerous, Your Highness. We have to avoid every action and reaction he can use against us in Parliament," Francesca explained and gave Pierre a look. He turned his head and for the first time he really looked at her. "You don't believe him but I do. I know this man is my father."

Losing his patience with Pierre and the whole situation Joes crossed the room with three big steps, grabbed Pierre by his collar and pulled him face to face with him. "Let me tell you one thing: this man isn't your father. The King is dead. He died while your mother sat by his side. I don't know what game you're playing, but be sure that I'll never forget what you've done to my wife tonight! You almost killed her and you and that lunatic will pay dearly for it!"

"Joe!" Francesca placed her gloved hand on his arm. "Clarisse wouldn't want that. Please…"

Using the moment Pierre pushed Joseph backwards. Frankie pulled her hand away and stepped back. "I don't need your help, Francesca and I don't need your approval, Joe. That man is King Rupert Renaldi and you should get used to the fact that your days in this Palace are numbered! As yours will be, Sebastian!" He turned to the politician. "Each and everyone of you is to blame if this country loses its pride and its virtue!"

He stormed out of the room leaving a speechless group behind. Mia started to cry silently, because her nerves got finally the best of her. Joe gave her a hug, but it was Frankie who first found her voice: "Well, I can't tell you what to do, Prime Minister, but if I were you I would immediately order some soldiers to protect the tomb. Exhume the King's body as soon as possible and demand a DNA test for our special guest. I know it needs the approval of Parliament, but in the end that could be an advantage. We need time to find the holes in his story."

Sebastian nodded. "I agree. Joe, do you think Her Majesty will be able to deal with this?"

"I don't know."

"Talk to her as soon as possible. There won't be a way to spare her the session in Parliament. Actually, this could end quite ugly. You heard him. He won't hesitate to spread gossip and will accuse her of having cheated on the King."

"Grandma would never do such a thing," Mia said sullenly and blew her nose. "We know that and Pierre should know it too, but I've got the feeling that someone brain-washed him."

"Milady, I hope that means we can count on you."

"Seems I have no option," she responded unwillingly. "Very well, then. I see you in Parliament. I'll suggest you as an indepenent expert in this case."

"If you have to."

"I think I will." Sebastian made a bow in front of Mia and left the Salon.

"You should go to bed, Princess. Tomorrow will be a long day." Joe gave her smile and Mia nodded in agreement. After another embrace with Joe she finally felt ready to leave. "I'll go.  
Give Grandma a kiss from me."

"I will, Princess."

"Good night, Lady DeLesseps and thank you for your help." Francesca shook Mia's hand and made a deep bow. After Mia left Francesca rubbed her aching forehead and loosened her pinned-up hair.

"What a night."

"I know."

"The man knows what he's doing. He's clever, educated and prepared. That he looks exactly like Rupert doesn't help either…" She made a pause and added: "Even the eyes… it's incredible. All these details. The posture, his language…I've never seen something like that!"

"That's actually what worries me the most. You see him, he looks like the King, but you instinctively it isn't him."

She ran her fingers through her hair and yawned. "You can stay at the Palace if you want to." "No, thanks… I think my company for the Ball might still be waiting for me somewhere. Good night, Joe." She said yawning again and turned.

"Out of curiosity… Is he a serious candidate?"

She stopped and turned to him. Her mouth formed a wicked smile as she answered: "As serious as one can be after two messed-up marriages."

"I understand. See you tomorrow?"

"I'm afraid so. Bid your wife good night from me. Tell her I won't let her down this time."

She opened the door.

"I hope both of us won't."

"Good night."

Clarisse had changed into her pyjama and a warm robe and was now standing at her bedroom window. It had started to rain outside. Her head still ached and the more she tried to make sense of what had happened the worse it ached. Where was Joseph? What was going on? At first, she had wanted to send Charlotte to spy everything out, but then she had changed her mind. She trusted Joseph and she trusted Sebastian… if the man really claimed to be Rupert she would be forced to see and deal with him soon enough anyway. But how was Mia? The poor girl must have received the shock of her life! As if she didn't have had enough to endure in the last month… was all she had accomplished in Parliament and in the people's hearts for nothing?

"Clarisse?"

There he was. Finally.

"Joseph."

Within a second he was with her and pulled her into his arms. "Why don't you sleep? Charlotte told me the doctor ordered you to rest!" He kissed her forehead and stroked her arms. "I didn't take the pill. I don't want to sleep!" She wrapped her arms around him and for some seconds she just entrusted herself to him. No words needed. He just held her and kissed her hair. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yes, I did…" His voice trailed off. He had no idea what to tell her. That he looked like him but wasn't? That it looked bad for them? That their marriage was in danger, if the guy could install himself as King?

"It can't be him, Joseph. I was at his side when he died…"

"I know, my dear. We'll prove that it isn't Rupert." He never liked to make promises he wasn't sure he could keep, but what choice did he have tonight?

He cupped her face with his hands and caressed her cheekbones. Her eyes were teary and he saw the fear in them. In all the years he had known Clarisse Renaldi he had seen this kind of fear only once. It told him that she was completely aware of what lay ahead of them and what no one besides God, if he really existed, could spare them.

"How's Mia?"

"Brave. I'm proud of her. She took it with dignity."

"That's good."

"Like her beautiful grandmother…"

"Fainting in front of the whole country… how graceful can that be?"

He shook his head and gave her smile. "I love you… fainting or not fainting."

She stretched against him and kissed his lips. After a second of losing himself in her blue eyes he pressed her to him and kissed her back. His tongue forcefully demanded entrance and she enjoyed the roughness of his tongue starting a duel with hers. No one could kiss her like that. Nobody else could awake her passion like he could. Most of her life she had lived in a world that only knew boundaries and restrictions, but with him she was free, even in the cage the monarchy was for her. The kisses went on and on while her hands tore greedily at his clothes as his worked on hers. She craved his touch and needed to touch him. She needed to feel his skin under her nails and longed for his groans of pleasure when he took possession of her.

"I won't let him have you. Never!" She felt his teeth penetrating the skin of her shoulder and she moaned with relief. It wasn't tender or the way they used to make love, but the pain felt good. It killed the fear inside…


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Although the Palace had finally found the peace to call it a night, the whole atmosphere was disturbed. The jolly feeling of the last few days after the wedding had turned into fear. Outside the fence some Genovian citizens had decided to camp in front of the Palace. They didn't know, if the strange shooter had been King Rupert, but they were sure that the best way to find out more was waiting right there. At the Palace, the heart of Genovia.

Inside the Palace Clarisse didn't waste her time with waiting and sleeping. In the rooms where no Genovian soul except from some carefully selected people had access to she desperately gave herself to the man who was her husband. The man who owned her heart and the only one she wanted to belong to.

Her legs were wrapped around him and with every new hard thrust inside of her she pressed her thighs closer around him begging him to give her more. She wanted more. She didn't care that he marked her everywhere where his mouth connected with her skin. She didn't mind the loud screams of pleasure and hunger escaping both of their throats which were maybe heard outside in the hallway. It didn't matter that the footmen realized they were having sex right now. She was too absorbed by their lovemaking to care. She wanted to hear him crying out her name and feel that she was the only woman he wanted. She wanted to feel him and she couldn't get enough of him. Her nails were clawing into his skin leaving scratches they would both regret in the morning.

She felt his mouth closing around her hard nipples and arched her back pushing her hips forcefully at his to increase their pleasure.

Feeling how close her own climax was she pulled his head to her and involved him in an ardent kiss. Then her muscles tightened almost painfully around him and the world around her went black and she collapsed in his arms tearing him with her in a world where no one but they existed.

Their bodies were both covered with sweat as she spooned herself against his body and pulled his arms around her so that they came to rest on her belly.

"Please, hold me all night long."

"I will, my dear," he promised tenderly and kissed the back of her neck. He lifted himself up to pick up the blanket that had ended up on the floor but she grabbed his arm not allowing him to move away from her. "You'll get cold."

"No," she kissed the back of his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Be my blanket tonight."

He obliged her wish sensing that the fear she carried inside was even bigger than his own. And it was almost unbearable for him to imagine losing her. Whether the man was Rupert or not wasn't important. He couldn't lose her to any other man.

But how she must feel knowing that someone, a stranger, was out there trying to get involved with her? It was obvious that he didn't just want to be King. He also wanted her. He had sent her the roses and thank god Charlotte had been kind enough to remove the first bouquet Clarisse had received.

"What will happen when I have to see him tomorrow?" she asked in a low voice.

"I don't know… but he won't come near you. I promise you that. I won't allow it and neither will Shades nor the Prime Minister."

"But who can he be? Do you think he's insane?"

"He didn't look insane…" His voice trailed off and he kissed her shoulder tasting her skin. God, if he didn't shut out the memory of this man he would go insane. The thought of losing Clarisse after loving her for the last 25 years was too much. He caressed a blossoming red mark in the crook of her neck with his nose and kissed it gently. She had gone through so much today… she should rest and not think about the lunatic.

"You should sleep," he said gently and rubbed her arm. "No."

"Aren't you tired?" he asked lowly against her skin. "No." She answered and turned in his embrace to face him. For some moments she caressed his face with her thumbs. Then she leaned into him for a soft kiss and wrapped her leg around his thigh. "I don't want to sleep," she whispered and moved herself above him. He didn't complain and caressed her thighs while she positioned herself in his lap.

***

The next morning was wet and cold. The rain that had started over night hadn't stopped yet and she was lucky that she could acquire an umbrella in her hotel. At least the rain was the same as in England, Frankie told herself as she slipped out of the car which had brought her to the Palace. The Prime Minister really did his best to make her stay. To her surprise, Charlotte, the Queen's faithful assistant who was just as pale as in the evening before, welcomed her at the big staircase and one of the footmen was holding a big umbrella to protect both of them from the cold rain.

"Lady DeLesseps. The Prime Minister is already waiting for you!"

"Good morning, Charlotte. How's Her Majesty?"

"Better. I talked to her some minutes ago."

"Good. I hope this won't turn out too unpleasant for her."

"We all hope so."

***

"Prime Minister." Frankie shook Sebastian's hand. "Milady. Take a seat, please."

"Thank you."

They were in a room next to the Parliament hall. According to the noise many of the members of Parliament had already arrived and were lively discussing last night's events.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," Sebastian moaned as he sat down behind his desk. "The soldiers I ordered to protect the Royal Mausoleum made a discovery…"

"Didn't I tell you, you had no right to exhume the body before Parliament agrees?" Frankie asked with a certain hint of mischief in her voice. She had known from the very beginning the Prime Minister wouldn't waste precious time.

Sebastian smiled. "Nobody exhumed the King. We just made sure that the contents of the coffin remained untouched." Frankie raised her eyebrows in amusement. She loved policy. One could do anything as long as one knew how to name it.

"I see. Let me guess. The coffin is empty."

"That would have been better. But no. It seems as if the leftovers of King Rupert were switched. Seven years ago, we buried a wax figure."

"Excuse me?"

"You live in London. Ever been at Madame Tussaud's?"

"Oh my god…"

"I don't think God has anything to do with this. But speaking of him, I asked the Archbishop to join us today. I think we could use some moral instance for today's session."

"It's your Parliament. Does the Queen know anything about this yet?"

"I informed her in the morning. She took it with great poise."

"Of course." She couldn't imagine anything else. "I've been a little busy myself before I came here and made some phone calls in the morning. I asked a friend of mine who works in the Hospital where the King died about his hospital records. I want to know what was going on when he died!"

The expression on Sebastian's face had changed. He turned pale. "You did what?"

"You heard me," Frankie answered dryly.

"Those records are top secret. You won't get them." Frankie laughed. "Believe me, I will!"

"I think you didn't understand me. You won't get them. I don't allow you to do this kind of research. You're here to make sure the man won't find a way to sneak himself on the throne and not to play Sherlock Holmes!"

Francesca was stunned and remained silent for a moment. When she opened her mouth again she was visibly angry: "As you wish."

"Good. And now we have to talk about something else. Is your father still a member of the English House of Lords?"

"He is," she answered in puzzlement. What could he want from her father?

"I need to talk to him."

"I'm here to make sure the man won't find a way to get the throne. Giving you telephone numbers isn't included in my job. If you want to talk to Lord Henry DeLesseps you'll have to do some research in the phone book." With that she rose from her chair and left the room.

In the hallway she pulled out her mobile phone and dialled a number: "Stephan? Is that you?… Good… listen, I still need those records… but be careful! Make sure no one notices a thing - just make a copy but don't send them to my hotel. I'll get them myself… thank you!" She hung up and took a deep breath. Somehow she had the feeling that she was opening the Pandora's box.

***

Clarisse sat at her dressing table and readjusted the scarf she had decided to wear around her neck. It was hopeless, no scarf could cover all the hickeys and marks Joseph had left on her neck. Maybe she should wear something else… maybe something with a turtleneck. It was cold enough outside…

"Olivia? Could you please get out the black suit with the white turtleneck sweater? You know the light one?"

Olivia nodded a bit embarrassed and vanished again into Clarisse's dressing room. Under normal circumstances she would have been ashamed, but today she had no time to care about that. In less than one hour a stranger would try to destroy her life. Could she mind a young maid's blushed cheeks?

Suddenly she felt a wet, cold nose bothering her arm. She looked down and smiled. "Hello Maurice…" She caressed the fluffy ears of her dog and in return he cuddled up to her legs. He had been Rupert's last present to her. For Christmas, when he had already been very ill. He had given him to her after their sons had already retired for the night in front of a flickering fire…

_"Pompous like a King, don't you think so?" he had asked and laughed as he sat the puppy on her lap and patted its small curly head. "Are you referring to someone special?" she had asked with a wink and he had laughed even more. "As if you didn't know what I'm talking about!" Then he had stopped laughing and turned serious: "I hope he'll remind you of me… in a good way." She had given him a soft smile and bent forward to kiss his forehead. "He will. Always."_

"Did you mean this suit, Your Majesty?" Olivia appeared behind her again and showed her a classic black suit. "Yes, Olivia. That's it. Would you help me with the zipper, please?"

***

"Hey Joe," Mia said as she came into her grandmother's suite.

"Good morning, Princess," Joe greeted her back and kissed her cheek.

"How are you? And how's grandma?"

"She's fine… she's getting dressed right now."

"I bet she's nervous," Mia said clenching her fingers, "she is… but as always she's calm."

"I wish I was more like her! I'm a wreck!" Mia admitted nervously and Joe rubbed her upper arms. "It'll be fine. I'm sure we can prove soon that the man is nothing but an impostor! Don't worry!"

"Your word in God's ear!" Her glance fell on the still well-filled breakfast table. Obviously, her grandmother and Joe hadn't been very hungry. "Would you mind if I drink some of your tea? I'm so cold…"

"No, just help yourself… I'll go and look whether your Grandmother is ready."

"Okay."

***

"Thank you, Olivia… you can go."

"Yes, Madam." Olivia curtsied and quietly left the room. Clarisse stood in front of the big mirror and checked her appearance again. She still wasn't happy with her looks. The sleepless night was written all over face no matter how much make up she applied and quite honestly, her body ached in places no one should know about. And yet, what she had experienced with Joseph had been deeper and more honest than everything she could remember. If only the threat of some other man taking her away from him hadn't hung over them.

"Clarisse? Darling?" Joseph peeked in and she turned to him and spread her arms insecurely. "Is this appropriate?"

Why on earth would she ask him? He had never understood women's dress codes and he was very happy to know that his black clothes were good enough for almost every occasion aside from balls, weddings and Parliament sessions where he had to attend as some kind of Prince consort…

"You look wonderful," he said and went to her. They embraced and she closed her eyes.

"I'm scared," she said and clung to him. Her confession surprised him. He couldn't remember a time when she had opened up to him without pressure from his side. "Don't be. I'm with you in there!" He backed off and gave her soft kiss on the lips, then looked into her eyes encouraging her with a smile. She smiled back at him and removed the lipstick she had left on his lips. "I love you, Joseph. Above anything." She rested her forehead against his and sighed.

"I love you too… Mia's outside. Why don't we join her and you eat something before we leave."

"No… I won't add throwing-up-in-Parliament to fainting-in-the-garden. My list of failings is long enough this week!" she attempted to joke but he shook his head. "Some hot tea won't hurt you. Let's go." Entwining their hands they left the bedroom together.

***

_Nervous like a schoolgirl Clarisse, now Clarisse Renaldi, wife of the Crown Princess of Genovia, stood in the doorway that led from her dressing room to her bedroom. Her husband stood at the window and looked outside into the garden. Rupert had told her before that she would have her own bedroom while he also had one in the same suite. Everybody needed a room of his own where to sleep and dress without being disturbed by someone who needed peace to do the same. She knew this kind of arrangement from her own parents, but the movies she had seen and the novels she had read so far told her otherwise… but maybe it wasn't the worst thing to have her own rooms… she liked Rupert very much, but she didn't know him very well. Maybe the arrangement also meant that he wouldn't visit her often at night… who knew what this meant at all?_

_She breathed in. This was her wedding night. Only six short hours since she was the wife of the future King of Genovia and although she didn't know him well she thought she knew him as a kind man. Since he had asked her to be his wife they had been honest with each other. She even had told him her deepest, best-kept secret and he hadn't abandoned her. He had understood her and assured her that it would turn out fine between them. Maybe in these moments she had realized this relationship wouldn't be end of her life. Not the life she had hoped for in her youthfully naïve imagination, but something that could be build to last._

_"Rupert?" she asked nervously and played with the sash of her silk robe which was mere decoration for her white silk and lace nightgown. He turned to her and a smile crossed his face._

_"Clarisse, my dear." He stretched his hand out and she slowly went to take it. She could feel his eyes taking in every detail of her appearance and she could see in his face that he liked what he saw._

_"You look very beautiful," he said admiringly and kissed her hand._

_"I did my best… and the maids too," she responded with a nervous chuckle._

_He smiled and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure my mother instructed them perfectly."_

_"The way they tore at my hair to fix it told me it was my mother who instructed them!" she responded and blushed. She shouldn't bother him with the mentioning of her mother._

_"I figured she isn't the easiest to get along with." He gave her a compassionate smile, lifted his hand and caressed her cheekbone. "But from now on you're the Mistress of the Manor and when you don't like your maids you'll get new ones. I want you to feel comfortable around here. This will be your home for the rest of your life, Clarisse."_

_If possible, she blushed even more. The idea scared her. The rest of her life… She bowed her head and whispered: "Thank you. That means a lot to me."_

_He preferred not to deepen this conversation and instead opened a bottle of champagne that stood next to her bed on the nightstand._

_"Champagne? I noticed that you hardly drank or ate at the dinner."_

_"Half a glass, maybe," she said, because she didn't want to disappoint him. She wasn't fond of champagne or any kind of alcohol. It made her dizzy which was embarrassing, or sick which was uncomfortable._

_"Here we go." He gave her half a glass of champagne and they toasted. The bubbles tickled on her tongue but she swallowed the sour liquid without complaint. She had already realized that she had to drink a lot of champagne for the rest of her life…_

_"Are you scared, Clarisse?" he asked after watching her for some time. "What… nooo…"_

_He took her glass and placed it together with his on the nightstand. Then he returned to her, cupped her face with the palms of his hands and looked into her eyes._

_"I know, this isn't easy for you, but I ask you to trust me… here and tonight and for the rest of our lives nothing will happen that you don't want. Can you believe that?"_

_She did believe him and nodded. Her fingers closed around his wrists and her thumbs caressed them as sign of trust._

_"You are a very beautiful woman, Clarisse Renaldi, and it'll be my pleasure to make you my wife tonight," he said and bent over to kiss her. Her fear melted when his mouth covered hers. It didn't feel unpleasant. Actually not like she had imagined it at all. She closed her eyes and allowed him to slowly deepen the kiss. Her lips opened for him and his tongue slipped into her mouth to start a sensual play with hers. He was a good kisser. Skilful and tender. Her arms wrapped around his body and she let it happen that he pressed her to him so that she could feel his arousal building up in his pants._

_"How can you want me?" she asked breathlessly after they had ended the kiss. She still had no idea why he had chosen her – with all her faults and her youth. He shook his head and caressed her collarbone with his fingertips. "I appreciate honest people. And from all the young, attractive and smart women I had to meet you were the only one who always told me the truth straight into my face. I admire that."_

_She swallowed. She wished she had kept some truths to herself, but it was too late to worry now. Rupert's hands ran over her body and she felt a pleasant warmth arise in her. No, this night wouldn't turn out to be unpleasant. Not at all. He kissed her again and after he had removed the ridiculous silk robe from her shoulders he pulled down the straps of her nightgown to reveal her naked body…_

_***_

The last row with seats was reserved for people who weren't members of Parliament. And there she belonged together with Mia, her mother, her stepfather, Joseph and Pierre. To Mia's surprise Nicholas Deveraux and his uncle were also present. The Archbishop had chosen a seat far away from everyone else and watched everything from afar. He didn't look happy with the developments. A King who had risen from the Dead wasn't something he could appreciate as spiritual head of a country.

Wise enough to know that Joe wouldn't want to sit next to Pierre Frankie had placed herself between both men. But Pierre didn't even acknowledge her presence and stared down to the middle of the room where the man he considered his father stood and told his story. He still wore the same uniform as he had the evening before and looked as self-assured as then. No sign of nervousness or unease could be recognized in his posture or voice.

The Queen herself hadn't spoken yet. She hadn't even looked at the man since he had entered the room. She sat next to Motaz, her spine straighter than ever, her eyes fixed on the wall while she listened to the long story of the man who claimed to be her husband. The Prime Minister looked sick while he listened to the man.

"My Lords, you see that my health only now allowed me to come back to my beloved country. You'll find the truth in the folders with my medical records I already gave to the Prime Minister."

Reluctantly Motaz took the folder and showed it to the politicians.

"Please add to the protocol that the Prime Minister has received the folders." The protocol writer nodded and Sebastian continued: "And now, would you mind some questions from our side?"

"Of course not, Prime Minister."

Sebastian cleared his throat: "We are a bit bewildered about the timing of your return and the way you staged it."

"I've already apologized for my entrance. It wasn't my intention to shock anyone." He made a bow into Clarisse' direction but she didn't react. "But I'm glad that no one was harmed."

"Thanks to you a panic arose in the country. People were camping outside the Palace because of your appearance and we had to call several ambulances because some people collapsed."

"Again, I offer my apology, but after things got out of hand in this country I had to interfere."

"What exactly went out of hand?" Motaz demanded to know.

"As much as I admire and respect my wife and my granddaughter Amelia for the way they have run this country, as much I'm sure that the Princess is too young to become Queen. Her Majesty should have known that. After all she has been responsible for Amelia's education over the last years."

"So you stayed away as long as you felt Genovia is in good hands, but decided to come back when you heard Princess Mia would succeed Her Majesty?"

"That is correct."

The room filled with nervous whispers and Motaz waited a few moments before he ordered everyone to become silent again. He looked at the Queen who nodded in agreement. It was her turn after all. The man had had more than enough time to justify himself.

"What do you expect us to do now?" she asked into the silence. Anticipation rose even higher in the room while everybody waited nervously trying to imagine how the man and the Queen would handle the situation. "Are we supposed to follow an ancient Genovian Law that was used for completely different reasons to reinstall a King who is declared dead? Because that is what my husband is. He is dead."

"I'm not dead."

"I saw him dying. The night he died and all the months before when his illness was slowly defeating him."

"I didn't die and I'm sorry I put you through all this. But it was for the best."

She preferred not to allow him to address her in any private matter.

"You haven't answered my question. What do you expect us to do?" she asked sternly and avoided to make eye contact with him.

In the last row Joseph held his breath. Something in her voice made him shiver. A certain kind of coldness she had learnt to use when she needed to survive. A wall she built up around her which nobody could break down unless one knew her well enough to know how to handle her in situations like this.

"I expect Parliament and you as Head of this state to make the right decision."

"That is to make you King."

"With you at my side. Amelia's position as Crown Princess will remain untouched and she'll become Queen when we're both dead."

Again people raised their voices and it took minutes before the noise settled down. Mia had grabbed Joseph hand and squeezed it almost painfully, but he didn't feel it. He was too concentrated on Clarisse whose face remained without expression.

"The King is dead," she said again and shrugged. "And my granddaughter has proved that she is more than able to rule this country and prepare it for the future."

"How can you say the King is dead when I'm standing right in front of you?"

Now, for the very first time Clarisse finally allowed herself to look into the man's face. She studied every wrinkle and especially his eyes.

"It's in your eyes," she said coldly, "I can see in your eyes that you're not Rupert."

Motaz' voice had a hard time to carry in the loud discussions that awoke in the room again. "Ladies and Gentleman, please… SILENCE!"

The people in the room slowly calmed down and Clarisse turned to the Prime Minister: "Sir, I want to make a motion."

"Your Majesty."

"I move to have a DNA test done. I'm sure, my son as well as my granddaughter will be happy to be of assistance in the matter."

"Who seconds the motion?" The Prime Minister looked around and the first to agree was Lord Palimore. Other hands followed and soon the whole Parliament agreed.

"Alright. Sir, if you agree we'll go through with the test today to ensure the quickest possible result."

"I do agree." The man made another unnecessary bow and Clarisse rose from her chair.

"Prime Minister, my Lords, I prefer to leave now, if you please."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

As quickly as possible everyone in the room got up and bowed. Clarisse left and life came into the last row. Joseph, Mia, Helen, her husband, Frankie and Pierre followed her out of the room.

"The session isn't over." Motaz screamed as the noise threatened to escalate in. "It's settled that the DNA will be performed after the session is over…"

***

"Mother?"

Pierre was the first to address his mother after the door had closed behind them. It was Motaz' job now to deal with the "King" and his fellow members of Parliament. Pierre followed her with big steps barely reigning in his anger. Joseph fastened his pace as well, but Francesca stopped him gently. "That's between them, Joe… you'll only make it worse for her."

"Mother!"

Finally she stopped and turned to her son. "Yes?"

"How could you this? Don't you know what you're doing to him? You've just humiliated him in front of the whole nation!"

Clarisse looked around. Joseph and the others remained in the background. She couldn't believe he was attacking her outside her private quarters in such a manner. "Have you asked yourself what he is doing to me?" she asked desperately trying to keep her voice calm.

"He only wants back what is his!"

"That man is not your father and if you refuse to help me Mia will take over this part!"

"You have no right do to this," Pierre stated. "Without him you wouldn't even be Queen today! You can rule, because he installed the laws to make that possible!"

"I wouldn't have to do this if you hadn't run away after one woman had broken your heart!"

Her last words had hit him like a slap and she immediately regretted them, but he had provoked her too often in the last few days.

"You really know how to repay people, Mother. And no, I won't help you. You'll have to hope for Mia." He said walking backwards and then turned to rush down the hallway. Clarisse followed him with her eyes and repressed her rising tears. She felt Joseph's hand on her back and then his mouth on her cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she mumbled. She needed a moment to regain her composure.

"I can't believe the nerve the guy has," Joseph said but she only shrugged.

"He only did what we expected. We'll see how and if he will manage to get out of the DNA-test." She sighed and then her glance fell on Francesca who stood aside at one of the windows. She exchanged a glance with Joseph who nodded at her and then she approached the younger woman in an almost shy voice: "Francesca?"

Clarisse saw her stiffen before she turned to face her.

"Your Majesty?"

"I need to talk to you. Would you be so kind to join me for a minute or two?"


	7. Chapter 6

Here we go again. Thanks for your kind words and comments about this story.

**Chapter 6**

The fog that settled down over the city became thicker by minute. It cloaked the high buildings with its surreal atmosphere and although it was only early afternoon it felt like early evening. Soon he wouldn't be able to locate Big Ben from the window in the conference room. The fog would consume its sight and only leave the idea of the famous tower in his mind. Fall in London – always a treat. But the fog and rising darkness were no reason to switch on the lights. He preferred the half-darkness of the room. In case someone was watching them from one of the buildings next to theirs they wouldn't have much to observe.

The man sighed and stroked his beard. He knew from his source the weather in Genovia wasn't much better and yet he missed his home country. He turned and cleared his throat. The other men in the room sat around a grand-sized table and waited for him to start. They were equal but since their very first meeting he, the most eloquent one, had been the one who spoke.

"Gentleman, as you heard in our telephone conference the second step to install our man back as King went rather well."

"But only because they believe the test will turn out to be negative!" a man at the other end of the table said. "As always they believe they would know it all!"

"Then," the man with the beard chuckled, "the surprise will be even bigger. But this isn't our problem."

"Well," another one started and rose from his chair. He was dark-haired and despite not being the youngest of the group he looked fresher than many of them, due to his dark complexion he had inherited from his Roman mother. "I still don't think we did it the right way. The Queen is no fool."

"We never said she was one."

"But she won't allow anyone to take over the throne. Even if half of Parliament doesn't listen to her she has Motaz on her side and other people who could endanger our mission! And she has the church on her side. The Archbishop has a close relationship to Rome…"

"Motaz is a fool and the Archbishop is no threat. Close to the Pope or not," the man with the beard responded firmly.

"But if the Church doesn't support the new King…," the other man insisted. He was no fool and not as naïve as the rest of them.

"The Church won't have any choice once the DNA-test confirms that the King is alive. Just as the Queen won't have any choice unless she wants to spend the rest of her life in exile which I highly doubt, even if she is married to someone else now. But if she insists on staying with him she can go with him. We won't keep her at all costs."

The younger man chuckled over the last statement: "I believe you would but will the people like this idea? Queen Clarisse is the Head of State. She means stability to them. She's reliable and intelligent. They adore her and they listen to her. Better you convince her that her first husband never died or you'll have a problem. In my opinion, it's possible that the people of Genovia love their recent Queen much more than their not-dead-King."

The older man shook impatiently his head and said: "Speculations, speculations, my young friend. You see dangers where you should see the light. Just believe me when I say that very soon not only the Queen but also the Archbishop will give King Rupert of Genovia their blessing! Simply because there's no other alternative for them."

***

"I think this is the most appropriate place for our talk." Clarisse closed the library door behind her and Francesca. "I remember you liked this room very much."

"Anything you say, Ma'am," Frankie responded politely and followed the Queen across the room.

"Take a seat," Clarisse offered one of two armchairs in front of the fireplace. "I think I need a tea. What about you?"

"Sure, why not?" Francesca shrugged and waited to sit down until Clarisse had finished her order via the old-fashioned telephone. After both women had sat down a tensed silence fell over the room. Francesca looked out of the window and immediately felt a bit colder. It was not only raining now but had also become foggy.

"Francesca?" Clarisse asked after a while. "Yes, Your Majesty?" She reluctantly turned her head to face Clarisse. She had no idea what to think about the Queen's invitation. The last time they had spoken the Queen had yelled at her and hadn't been interested in anything she had to say. "I was wondering why you agreed to help us?"

"Let's say the Prime Minister can be very convincing," Francesca answered ironically. "He said I owed you something, this country too, and I think he might be right." She rose from her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared into the empty fireplace. How dead a fireplace looked with a roaring fire in it.

Clarisse didn't respond immediately and watched the younger women while she stood at the fireplace. She took her time to collect her thoughts and evaluate her words.

"Francesca… I know I wasn't very polite towards you at the ball. I was rather harsh and I apologize for that. You wanted to warn me and I lashed out at you." She breathed in and continued in a low voice: "The last few days have taught me that I made a lot of mistakes when it came to my son… I don't know him as well as I should and I…"

"No, no, no! Stop it!" Francesca interrupted her and sat down next to her again. "Your Majesty, what happened to Pierre over the years is certainly not your fault. I won't be so arrogant to say I'm to blame for everything because I decided not to marry him, but I know it's partly my fault." Frankie bowed her head. "You've done nothing wrong… don't blame yourself, please don't." She brushed a loosened strand of hair behind her ear and turned her face away.

Clarisse could see how her cheeks were blushing and said lowly: "When it comes to arrogance I beat you anyway… I never asked you why you broke the engagement off. I guess I didn't want to hear what no mother likes to hear… blaming you was easier than listening to any explanation."

"Pierre never told you?"

"No."

"I guess until today I never knew how much it affected him… he was so calm when I told him I couldn't marry him. So understanding… he even wished me a good life. He was so different from the man I saw today." Francesca leaned back and stared into the fireplace where no fire was burning. Clarisse watched her in silence asking herself what it had been that made the young merry woman she once had known so sad.

Olivia and Priscilla came in to serve the tea and Clarisse asked them to light a fire. "I think we could need some pleasant warmth in here."

As long as the maids were around Clarisse and Francesca didn't talk and just drank their hot tea. When they had left and the fire spread some light and warmth over them Clarisse finally asked what she had wanted to ask Francesca the last 20 years: "So… why did you leave him? Was it the job… was it him or was it another man?"

Francesca who was warming her hands at her cup hesitated for a moment and said then: "I guess you know I married just two months after I left Genovia."

"Yes, but that doesn't answer my question."

"What do you mean?" Frankie asked tonelessly without looking at Clarisse. "I never thought you were a woman who… fooled around. And as far as I know your marriage didn't work out very well. I don't think you left Pierre because of the man you married."

Francesca made a face and avoided a concrete answer. "No, it didn't go very well… I guess I've never been someone who is good at relationships. I wasn't the right woman for Pierre and later I wasn't the right woman for my other husband. I'm just not made for the part."

"You got cold feet?"

The answer came slowly and Clarisse could hear that Francesca chose her words very carefully: "No, I fell in love with someone else and impulsively as I was I ran away, married and it ended in a mess. I'm not proud of this part of my life."

"And your children? Your father told me you have two… a boy and a girl."

"True… they are my pride, therefore they live far away from me."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I know people who are not… my father is one of them."

"Your father loves you very much," Clarisse responded softly. She had been watching Frankie the whole time, but now she sensed instinctively that the woman desperately tried to keep her emotions under control.

"I can't tell you that because he hasn't talked to me for almost twenty years. But he is good with my children and that's the reason I tolerate him in their lives."

Clarisse smiled and said wisely: "You're both very much alike. Do you know that?"

"If you say so…"

"I'll tell him the same the next time I talk to him."

"Sounds like a threat," Francesca laughed nervously and emptied her cup.

"It's a promise," Clarisse said and refilled her own cup. "You know… the way Pierre is slipping away hurts me and if I could help you and your father to find a way back to each other it would make me very happy."

Francesca gave Clarisse a smile but shook her head: "I know my father worships the ground you walk on, but I doubt it's enough to forget his disappointment in me. Him accepting me again would be like a miracle. But thank you for the offer, it's more than I could expect."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Frankie said honestly and looked again at the fireplace. The flames were flickering and the wood cracked loudly into the silence.

"How long will you stay in Genovia?" Clarisse asked and Francesca shrugged in response. "As long as it's necessary I guess…"

"Thank you."

***

Joe took a look at his watch and was surprised that Clarisse and Francesca still hadn't finished their conversation. He was proud of Clarisse and the way she had handled the man in Parliament and later on Pierre. She was so strong and independent that it sometimes hurt him to see how well she coped with problems without him. But then there were moments at night when she turned to him and was just a woman who loved him – a woman who needed his support and strength to go on and face the world around her.

He sighed and stepped back from the curtain. The rain outside depressed him. Maybe he should go to Shades to make sure the broken cameras had already been repaired. He had a feeling that the recent security breaches were no coincidence and the last thing they needed now was that certain people could find a way to get into the Palace.

The cell phone in his pocket rang. Surprised about the number appearing on his screen he answered: "Yes… what happened? I see… and? 10 pm? Where… are you sure? Okay… yes, I understand… I see you there." He hung up and mulled over what he had just heard. Unusual maybe, but not uninteresting. Question was what he could tell Clarisse and what he should better keep to himself.

***

Joe peeked through the bathroom door and a wide smile appeared on his face as he saw that Clarisse was still lying in the grand-sized tub. The room was filled with the smell of her favourite lavender oils and heavy steam hung in the air. In his quickly rising fantasy Clarisse rose from the water, her wet body steaming, while suds ran over her naked skin.  
But he had to leave and therefore repressed every thought about what could happen after she climbed out of that tub and ended in his arms. Instead, he kept looking at her peaceful sight. Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn't asleep. Just drifting away into another world…

"Why do you keep staring at me instead of joining me?" she asked drowsily and he chuckled. Just as he always felt her presence in a room she had sensed his.

"I wish I could but I'm afraid I have an appointment."

"Appointment?" She opened her eyes and was stunned. He was wearing all black. The same clothes he had worn for many years when he had protected her as her Head of Security.

"Yes. But I'll be back as soon as possible."

He went to the bathtub and bent down to kiss her. Stretching her head she met him in a kiss that was meant to be soft and gentle and involved him a passionate duel with her tongue. He couldn't resist and kissed her back. The kiss almost made him forget his good intentions to leave instead of joining her in the hot, promising water.

"I better go now," he said huskily and lifted his head.

"Where are you going?" she asked, curious about his clothing and the fact that he wanted to go out at this hour. It was highly unusual for him, and whom could he have an appointment with?

"I'll tell you later… when I know it was a good idea or not." Bewildered she backed off and deep concern appeared in her eyes: "What's going on? Something I should know about?"

"Nothing. Don't worry. I'll be back soon!" To reassure her he gave her another kiss. She kissed him back after a short hesitation and sighed when their mouths parted again. "I guess I have to trust you." She still wasn't convinced and somewhere in her an alarm bell rang, but she couldn't forbid him to leave the Palace, could she?

"Yes, you have. Don't worry, Darling."

"Didn't I tell you some time ago that you've been wearing black for too long?" she asked unhappily and held the collar of his jacket with two fingers to avoid getting it wet. He took her hand, kissed it and responded with a blink: "That was me but I won't keep you from reminding me of that statement when I'm back."

***

Some time later Clarisse, wrapped in her warmest bathrobe, came out of her bedroom. Olivia had brought her some tea and cookies before she had retired for the night and Clarisse picked up the blanket from the chaise longue to take it with her to the couch. She intended to wait for Joseph and hoped she could distract herself with a book until he came back. She desperately needed something to make sure her thoughts wouldn't spin around the man who tried to become her husband and her son who was further away from her than she could have ever imagined.

At first, Maurice only lifted his head when he saw his mistress crossing the room and then rose from his place in the corner to trot over to her.

"Hello Maurice… will you join me?" The dog savoured her question with a low growl and lay down next to the couch resting his head on his large paws. Clarisse smiled and petted his head. "Good boy. I knew I could count on you."

She settled down on the couch, opened her book and sipped from her tea until the sound of the cracking fire was interrupted by a raspy noise and Maurice who immediately shot up from his place and started to snarl and bark. Clarisse jerked up and felt her heart bumping in her chest. She had an alarm bell under her desk but the desk was across the room… she could scream for help but… While she struggled to kick her blanket away and to get up from the couch she heard steps approaching her. Maurice barked louder and then he suddenly stopped.

"It's alright, Maurice. It's just me."

Clarisse froze in her movement and her heart stopped beating. It was him. And she was alone… she turned her head and saw him standing there petting Maurice back. The bookshelves behind her desk were opened so he knew about the secret passage that lead from the hallway downstairs to her quarters.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but since Joseph isn't here right now I thought we could talk."

Clarisse stared at him. The boldness of that man was almost obnoxious – and it scared her.

"Maurice, come to me," she said firmly and the dog quickly ran over to her to sit down next to her. "And if you don't leave immediately I'll call security!"

"Don't you want to listen to what I have to say?" The man asked gently and smiled at her. "I promise you nothing will happen to you. I just want to you to listen to me."

***

"And now?" Joe asked rubbing his cold hands. He had agreed to meet Francesca on the Palace Grounds close to the Royal Mausoleum, but now that he was here he asked himself why he had done so. The idea was absurd.

"And now? We'll go inside to see if Motaz told us the truth!" She answered matter-of-factly.

"Why should he lie to us?" Joseph asked and added, "he has no reason to lie to us unless he is involved with the man which I highly doubt. He's on our side!"

"Maybe, maybe not… I just want to know why he is so secretive. But if you're scared you can go back to the warm Palace, to your wife," she teased and Joe made a face. "Dream on. Since I'm here I can stay and convince myself of the truth. And look after you. You've never been good in taking care of yourself."

"Very funny but well…let's go."

The two rushed over the wet grass towards the Mausoleum. The rain had stopped but the fog was still thick and to avoid any attention the two had switched off their torches.

"Interesting that Motaz has removed the soldiers from the building," Joe said and gave her a look. "Well, actually that wasn't him… I asked a certain someone to make some calls, et voila the soldiers disappeared," Frankie explained and Joe could sense her bright smile in the darkness.

"You still know how to play your men, don't you?"

"I just know which buttons to push. As soon as Motaz realizes someone has played him, the soldiers will return, but for tonight it should be safe to pay Rupert and his ancestors a little visit."

They had reached the door and Joe tried to open it, but the big wooden door was locked and he pulled out a picklock. Soon the old-fashioned lock gave way and he could open the door.

"That was quick," Frankie remarked dryly and he cracked a smile. "Old fingers don't forget their tricks. Let's go inside before someone sees us."

They slipped through the door and switched on their torches. They were standing in a small hallway that was completely dark. The torches at the walls symbolized the older times when no electricity existed and indeed they had been never switched with conventional lamps. The name of every member of the Renaldi family who was buried in the Mausoleum since they had taken over the throne was engraved into the grey marmoreal floor. The last name on the long list was Edward Christoph Philippe Gerard Renaldi born in 1966, deceased in 2001.

Frankie let the cone of light rest on the name for a moment. "Poor Philippe," she said in a sad voice, "he didn't deserve to die. He was too young."

"Yes, he was," Joe agreed throatily.

Frankie took a deep breath and returned her attention to the next door that separated them from the remains of the Renaldis. "Let the games begin," she ordered and made a step forward.

"Frankie." She stopped and turned to Joe who stood still. "What happened between you and Clarisse today?" If she was surprised by his question she didn't show. She only spoke a little faster than usually.

"We just talked… we both apologized and decided to let the past be past. I'm afraid I wasn't truly honest with her but I decided that some truths simply hurt too much. And the last thing I want is losing her trust – again."

" I see."

"Let's go, Joe… I don't want to spend more time in here than necessary."

***

"Clarisse, please… listen to me!" The man remained where he was, but even that was too close. Being with him was harder than she imagined when she faced him from a certain distance in Parliament today. She had thought that when she saw him again there would be something that would expose him as an impostor, but apart from his eyes having a slightly different colour and a certain way of looking at her there was nothing that could distinguish the man from her late husband.

"I can't imagine what you could tell me. We don't even know each other!"

"Of course we know each other. I know seven years are a long time, but believe me when I tell you that I didn't leave you on purpose. I had no other choice."

"Most of us have no choice when we die… like my son. That is what I keep asking myself since you appeared… If you are my husband where were you when my son died… what man could stay away when his son dies and his wife is suffering?"

"A man who is too ill to act. It nearly killed me when our son died," he said full of compassion. "It killed me to know that you were alone mourning my son and me but I couldn't reach you from where I was."

Clarisse shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. "The Rupert I know wouldn't have done something like that to me… and he wouldn't have let his country down. The Von Trokens almost took over after Philippe died… Rupert wouldn't have allowed that."

"I trusted you. I knew you would secure the throne. I knew you would do what you've always done. Your job."

Maurice laid down next Clarisse and observed them both from the corners of his eyes.

"Do you recognize this?" the man asked and Clarisse observed him with growing concern while he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to expose an ugly, long scar.

"You've made great effort to look like Rupert," she remarked coolly but shuddered deep inside. The day Rupert got wounded was still on her mind and the memory of it still scared her.

"The last scar an assassin could cause. After that we appointed Joseph as Head of our Security and he made sure the group of rebels couldn't harm any of us again."

"I know."

"Was it back then that you fell for him? When I entrusted him with your life?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," She whispered and turned away from him, "I want you to go and never come back."

"I've always loved you, Clarisse. I want you to know that."

The words reached her ear and echoed in her head. Louder and louder. She whirled around to face him again. "And what about Penelope?" she asked huskily. "Wasn't she your world a long time before I even knew it?"

For a second the man was aghast. But then he found his voice back and said: "You know she didn't mean anything to me."

Clarisse smiled lightly and agreed. "Of course not. They never do."

***

"That f**king bastard!"

Furiously Frankie let the cover of the coffin fall shut and hit it with her fist. The sound disturbed the dead silence of the sacred hall and echoed in it.

"I knew he was lying to me!"

"I guess, we have a problem now," Joe stated quietly and sighed. Frankie sank down on the floor, leaned against the coffin and ran with her fingers through her hair.

"You might say so! What do you think will happen if anyone finds out this coffin here is empty?"

"I don't even want to imagine it," Joe said and sat down next to her. "But what was Motaz thinking? And what does he want?"

"Good question… all I know is that from now on we should be very careful with what we tell him. At least until we know more."

"You know what the result of DNA test will be, right?" Joe asked into the silence after a while.

"Yes, but I hope that until we have the result we know who he is. But Motaz is the one who manages the investigations. He has the records… all of them."

***

_"Rupert?" Clarisse asked gently and waited until he noticed her before she came in. He had already changed for the night and sat upright in his bed reading some papers._

_"Yes, my dear?" He looked up from his folder. His facial expression didn't give away if he had noticed her beautiful nightgown made of black silk and lace. She had hoped for a smile or a welcoming gesture but nothing happened. Despite her slight disappointment she smiled at him and said: "I thought we could talk about something."_

_"Of course." He put the papers aside and swung his legs from the bed but she shook her head: "Don't bother. I'll join you."_

_She climbed on the bed with him and supported by her elbow she looked at him making sure he could steal a glimpse of her cleavage._

_"What is it, Clarisse?"_

_"It's about Pierre… I want you to reconsider sending him to England."_

_"Clarisse…," he sighed but she raised her hand. "I know we've discussed this ad nauseum. But he doesn't want to go there and I don't see why we can't wait for another year… he's only 13."_

_Rupert gave her look and answered apparently annoyed with the subject: "Well, I think, the younger he is to have some experience abroad the better but if you think…" "Yes, I do," she interrupted quickly and reached out to touch his cheek, "he worships the ground you walk on and he needs to spend more time with you. Sending him away after the summer isn't what he needs now. He needs his father. A father who is not constantly absent-minded. Please, Rupert… think about it."_

_"Alright," He responded gently, "anything you say." He took her hand, kissed it and released it again. "I'll spend some time with him and we postpone the school in England till next year."_

_"Thank you."_

_She rose from her position and slipped close enough to him to wrap her arms around his neck. Determined to let him know how grateful she felt she kissed him tenderly on the lips and let her tongue tease them to demand entrance until he granted it. Moving herself on his lap she let her hands dug into his hair and kissed him passionately. His hands roamed over her back and came to rest on her hips. Feeling encouraged she pressed her body closer to his.  
For days she had felt the desperate need to be with her husband. She ached for his touches and kisses more than ever before but he had been so occupied that she had hardly seen him at dinner or in the evenings after the boys were in bed. When he retired into his rooms the lights were switched off shortly after so that she didn't want to disturb him. But tonight she had seen her chance to catch him and she had taken it._

_He returned her kisses, but she sensed he wasn't really into them. She pulled back and gave him a small smile: "Is anything wrong?"_

_"No," he answered but avoided her eyes. She leaned again into him and kissed his face and moved down to his neck to tease him there. She knew he liked it and it usually seduced him…_

_"Clarisse…," he said huskily and squirmed under her touches and kisses, "please, I'm really tired…"_

_"It's been so long," she whispered against his skin and returned to his mouth. But this time he didn't kiss her back. He grabbed her shoulders as gently as possible and pushed her back a bit._

_"Not tonight, Darling," he managed to say and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry." Taken aback she slipped away when he climbed out of the bed and vanished into the bathroom._

***

She knew it was late. She knew she should not be here. She shouldn't have called Shades and woken him up to tell him to drive her. Joseph would be mad at her for leaving the Palace, especially after the man had gotten into their suite, but she needed to talk to somebody who understood the burden pressing down on her. If she didn't, there'd be no sleep for her tonight or any time soon. The church was almost dark. Only a few candles on the altar and next to it illuminated the old walls.

The sound of her heels hitting the floor echoed in the church as she walked down the aisle to the altar to light a new candle. She crossed herself and sank down on the first bench.

"I knew you would come. In fact I had expected you to come earlier." On the low steps the Archbishop approached her from his place behind the altar.

"I need your help."

"I'm not sure I can help you."

"But you know the truth."

"As you do but what can we do about it? It's hardly something you can admit if you don't want to risk your family's claim to the throne."

"Without your permission or the permission of Rome nobody will accept him as King. To be reinstalled he needs your blessing. If you deny it… " Her voice trailed off but the Bishop looked at her. He seemed tired.

"We live in times where the Church doesn't have the power to make or deny Kings, Ma'am. You overestimate my power."

"I don't think so… your intervention could be enough to postpone the process. We need time and your reluctance to accept him can buy us time!"

"It's a risky game you ask me to play," the cleric said and sank down next to her.

"But we've covered all this for so long… I kept this secret for so long. I can't betray Rupert and I can't admit to the whole world what not even our sons knew." She covered her eyes with her hand trying to suppress the tears that were stuck in her throat. "It's all about to shatter right in front of me. I feel so helpless," She admitted teary-eyed and swallowed.

The Archbishop allowed her to calm down before he continued: "How does your husband feel about everything?"

"I won't survive any of this without him… I know he tries to be strong for me… but I can feel he's as scared as I am. It would be so much easier for all of us if I hadn't married him… can you believe this? If I had let him go, he wouldn't have to go through this." She laughed bitterly. "His position is now more in danger than it would be as my employee."

"You know I can't guarantee for anything in case Parliament acknowledges him as King."

She nodded and bowed her head. Her eyes clung to her hands which played with the lock of her purse.

"I know but I even refuse to think about it… Honestly I don't know what I'll do if Parliament dares to take the only man I've ever really loved away from me."


	8. Chapter 7

**Thanks for your kind reviews. Here we go with the next chapter. Enjoy! **

**Chapter 7**

_"You're serious about this?" Rupert gave his wife a bewildered glance. It was late at night. After midnight actually, but he was still awake sitting on the couch and working on some parliament papers._

"Of course, I am serious. Why should I make jokes about something like that?"

He took off his glasses and rubbed his aching nose in order to avoid looking at his wife who sat next to him on the couch. The air was filled with her perfume and the warmth of her body penetrated their clothes.

"We already have two healthy children… the most wonderful boys one can imagine."

"Yes, and I want another child…"

"You're almost 40 Clarisse… I'm almost 50."

"Many women in my age get pregnant again… and don't you think a little Princess you can spoil would make our family complete?"

Finally he turned his head and faced her. There she was. A beautiful and desirable woman who every man would love to call his wife and his confidante. She was bright, sensitive, caring and the perfect mother not only for his children but also for his country. He had known for a long time that she wanted to have another child. He could see it every time they were in a crowd and she greeted the women with their children. The way her eyes shone when she saw a child spoke for itself. And what kind of husband was he that he didn't wish to fulfil his wife's desire of becoming a mother again?

"Clarisse…," he lifted his hand and touched her face. His thumb caressed her cheekbone and ran down to her mouth. He brushed her lips, felt the suppleness of them. Never in his life had a woman been so close to him. Sometimes he was even scared of her. Her intelligence and her way of thinking were too close to his. Sometimes she knew how he would decide before he knew it himself. And yet the one part of his life and soul he was hiding from her, was more and more the reason for a rift between them.

He wasn't the husband he should be… and it hurt him to live with that every day but was there a choice if he didn't want to risk losing her as his most beloved companion?

"Tell me what's wrong," she begged diffidently. "Is it me? My body?" The fear in her voice was unmistakeable and his guilt choked him.

"No…," he said huskily, "it's never been you. Don't ever believe that." He cupped her cheek and kissed her. She didn't respond immediately. In fact she pulled back a bit and he could sense her uneasiness, but he pulled her back and intensified his kiss. His tongue pushed demandingly into her mouth teasing her to respond. Slowly she gave in and melted into his embrace. He pressed her body against his and searched with both hands for a way under her silky nightgown. How long had it been since he had touched her like this? He couldn't say and according to her passionate response she couldn't either. Their kisses grew more heated and she moved onto his lap with her thighs trapping his and her full breasts pressed against his chest. He felt her nipples harden between his fingertips and with her impatient help he dragged her nightgown over her head and threw it on the floor. His warm hands roamed over her bare, freckled skin and each touch was echoed by an instant moan from the depth of her throat.

"I know I should love you more… I wish I could…," he mumbled against her warm skin as he caressed and licked her collarbone and her shoulders with the tip of his tongue....

***

When Joe returned to their suite he sensed immediately that she wasn't there. He rushed into their bedroom and saw her nightclothes spread over the bed… a sign that she hadn't called Olivia or Priscilla for help, which was unusual for her and concerned him deeply. Where could she go at this hour? She had been tired after a long day and a sleepless night. He had made a bet she would have fallen asleep while waiting for him.

"Clarisse?" he yelled hoping against hope to hear her answer. Then he looked around. No note… no sign of her…

He picked up the phone and called the security room. To his annoyance Lionel was in charge tonight and of course he didn't know a thing. He hung up again and returned to the living room. Maurice was lying on his big cushion not really asleep and not awake either.

"Where did she go, old boy? Any idea?"

"I'm here…" Startled he turned and discovered her standing in the main door. All in black and pale like a sheet.

"Where have you been?" He crossed the room, welcomed her with a kiss on the forehead and helped her out of her cloak.

"I went to see the Archbishop," she explained and rubbed her cold hands.

"You left the palace?" he asked in disbelief while he put her cloak and his jacket over the rest of the couch.

"Shades drove me."

"But it's far too dangerous to leave the palace at night! You can't know who is waiting for his opportunity to get his hands on you outside these days!" His voice was sharper than intended but she didn't seem to notice it. She sank down on the big couch and looked into the fireplace absentmindedly.

"Clarisse?!"

He sat down on the table and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Listen, I don't want you to leave the Palace again at night. I'm sure the Archbishop will pay you a visit if you ask him to! The last thing we need is that someone kidnaps you!" Again she didn't react which lead him to grab both of her shoulders. He shook her gently: "Clarisse! Darling, are you listening to me?"

Her behaviour scared him although he tried his best to hide it. Finally she reacted and faced him. Her blue eyes were expressionless.

"He was here."

"Who?"

"Rupert… or whoever he is."

He didn't believe his ears and removed his hands from her shoulder. "What? How? When?"

"After you left. He used the secret passage behind my desk."

"What had… did he hurt you? Where was Shades?"

"He didn't even touch me… and I didn't call anyone. He just wanted to talk."

"To talk?" His voice was toneless but the anger building up inside him wouldn't stay that way. Not when he finally got his hands on Shades and the rest of the security team.

"The passage is locked from the other side! There's no way he could have used it!"

"Well, he did," she shrugged. "I told Shades to make sure it'll be blocked from now on."

"And what did he want?"

"He wanted to convince me he's Rupert… declared his love…showed the scar on his arm… You know the one when Rupert stepped in front of me when that lunatic tried to attack me… he saved my life that day… all this blood… it was everywhere…" Her voice trailed off again.

The mere idea that the man had been inside these rooms drove Joseph insane. He could have hurt her or worse and no one would have noticed a thing…

"He must have observed you because he told me you had left earlier."

"Oh God!" He bent forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, my dear."

Her apathy melted in his arms and soon she clung to him. She squeezed her eyes shut and said emotionally: "He thinks he can play us but I know he's lying. He isn't Rupert."

"What did he say?"

"It's more the way he reacted to what I told him," she backed off and cupped his face.  
"But I've talked to the Archbishop. He married us and he'll help us to stay married even if the DNA test fails to bring out the truth!" She rested her forehead against his and breathed in.

When she spoke again her voice was rougher and lower than he had heard it ever before: "While I was sitting in that church I felt so guilty towards you… If I hadn't have been so selfish to keep you with me when I knew that a life without me could be so much easier for you…"

"No, no, no, no, Clarisse!" He stopped her with a kiss. "A life without you wouldn't be a life at all. Only you make my life complete and worth to live! I wouldn't want to it any other way… since the very first time I saw you, you've been my dream and all I ever wanted. Don't you ever doubt that!"

"You're a fool," she stated with a tender smile. "Do you know that?"

"Yes."

Their mouths melded together again and Joseph rose from his place on the table and joined Clarisse on the couch. His arms wrapped around her and they continued kissing until one of them broke off because of the lack of oxygen. His fingers played with her hair and his lips caressed her nose and her cheeks.

"And where have you been?" she asked as she snuggled up against him. "You promised to tell me!"

"Oh…" Over the shock of Clarisse not being around and the news of the intrusion of "Rupert" he had almost forgotten about his and Frankie's trip into the mausoleum.

"Well, maybe I should go to Shades first to hit over the head before I tell you my story."

He wanted to get up but she refused to let him go. "No, it wasn't Shades' fault! Stay here with me… he won't come back so soon anyway." Reluctantly he stayed and together they lay back on the couch. Clarisse's head rested on his chest and his arms were wrapped around her. Playing with the buttons of his shirt she asked: "So?"

"Frankie and I were in the Mausoleum," he answered lowly and waited for her response.

"Excuse me?" She lifted her head from his chest and gave him a bewildered look. "Would you care to explain why you went there? With her?"

"Motaz told her that Rupert's body was switched with a wax doll. But she didn't trust his version and asked me to help seeing it for herself."

"What?" He saw the anger rising in her eyes when she sat up.

"She was right… the Prime Minister lied to her. The coffin was empty."

"I can't believe it! Who allowed you to desecrate Rupert's grave?" Almost in panic she got up from the couch and turned her back on him.

Breathing heavily and shaking all over she wrapped her arms around herself. She forced herself to listen to him although she had a hard time to concentrate on him…

"Well, fact is that according to Motaz the grave had already been desecrated before we even had the idea!" he explained surprised upon her harsh reaction. He rose from the couch and went to her. "I know it sounds sick but after all Frankie was right. Maybe we can't trust Motaz."

"He's our friend… if he lied he had a good reason to do so! And besides I don't know what Rupert's body could prove… the DNA test will be performed with Mia!"

"This isn't about the DNA test!"

She whirled around. "The next time your friend Francesca or you have such a brilliant idea, inform me please!"

"I didn't want to upset you."

"You did upset me! For God's sake, he was the King, the father of my children! How could you do something like that?! Can't you see how wrong it was? We have laws in this country! They could send you to prison for that!"

Visibly shaken she ran with her fingers through her hair and shook her head.

"Then I should tell you before that she is about to get your late husband's medical records. He wants to know if there's any sign of a strange blood disease or another medical problem no one was aware of."

If even possible her anger became stronger: "That will hardly prove a thing! A witch-hunt won't expose the man! If you want to know who he is, you should find out where he came from and how it is possible that he looks like Rupert!"

"Look, Clarisse…"

But she only shook her head. Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she was close to lose her composure. She clenched her hands and her knuckles became white under the pressure.

"No. Please, do what I ask you to. Please, let Rupert rest in peace. Please. And do me the favour and tell Francesca the very same!" she begged in a low voice and he finally nodded. Without another word he turned and left the living room.

***

_The candles on the small altar in the Archbishop's office flickered nervously. The room was quite cold because the heating system in the back of the old church was defect and the harsh wind that beat against the windows from the outside turned louder by the second. It was the harshest winter in Genovia in years._

"The weather is bad, Your Majesty. You shouldn't have come here," the cleric said gently and gave her a cup filled with hot tea. "At least the electricity is still working. But only God knows when that will stop. It's February already and it just doesn't stop snowing!"

Clarisse warmed her gloved hands against the cup but didn't drink from her tea.

"I didn't know where to go, to be honest." She explained. "Honestly, I don't know what to do now. This is all so unreal."

"Have you talked about it to your husband?"

"Yes, we talked and talked." The bitterness in her voice was obvious and the priest bowed his head. "But talking won't change a thing about the way he feels!"

"Did you ask him how he feels about you?"

_She put the cup back on the desk. The tea spilled over the edge of the old porcelain and ran over the old wood down on the cold floor. _

_  
"I know he loves me… he told me so, over and over again… and for some time I thought we had seen our problems through and then… God, I even considered having another child with him… and now…" She couldn't continue to speak and swallowed her rising tears._

"I can't tell you what do you, Madam. There are ways to handle a situation like this but…"

"I don't even know if I want to handle this. I wish I just could blend it out… bury and forget it… forget what I saw, forget what I know… forget what I feel…"

"You don't have a reason to give up on your marriage… you have to believe. You have to hope and don't forget that God is with you…"

"Could we leave God out of this, maybe?" she asked unhappily. Embarrassed the Bishop stayed silent and waited for Clarisse to speak again.

"All I know is that I never want him to touch me again. Not ever."

***

Clarisse listened to the sound of water running in the shower. He showered longer than usual tonight. She knew that he was trying to find out why she had lashed out on him the way she had. Surely, he had calculated that she would be angry with him but he couldn't have known how his confession would upset her.

Once they had buried her dead husband she had hoped that part of her life was finally over. The journey had been so long and painful for both of them. His death had almost destroyed her. The burden of the secrets around their marriage had been hard to carry and in the end she had had to be strong for him and his sons. She had had to lie and cheat on people she loved dearly, because her duty had demanded it. One wrong word of truth and their family would have had to face the end of the Monarchy in Genovia to leave it in the hands of ruthless, self-serving people. But he couldn't know any of this. Because besides her and three trusted friends no one knew a thing about all this. And she had never wanted to burden Joseph with that part of her life.

Finally the water stopped running. She looked down at her clothes. She still wore the black outfit she had put on when she had gone to visit the Archbishop. Maybe she should change into something less uptight when she tried to apologize to her husband…

***

Joe switched off the light in the bathroom and stepped out into the bedroom he shared with his new wife. Actually it was her bedroom, not his. He had never felt like a guest or just tolerated in here before, but today he did. Something had snapped in her when he had told her what he and Frankie had done. The spark of underlying jealousy concerned him a little, but what scared him was her reluctance to discuss the matter with him. As her official Head of Security she hadn't hidden anything from him – not that she could since he had always been close, but her odd behaviour had shown him that she was hiding something from him. Something somewhere deep down inside of her.

As head of state she was used to think and act logically. If that included to make sure her husband had really died from what the doctors had called a severe heart condition, then so be it.

As long as he could remember word had been that there was just a friendly relationship between the Queen and her husband. He had never asked how close the two of them actually were. They had had children and over 30 years of marriage. He didn't want to know about her marriage with Rupert when he realized Clarisse felt the same for him as he did for her. But maybe it was time to address the subject.

She was sitting at her dressing table and had changed into her usual silk pyjama.

"The bathroom is free," he said while taking off his watch.

"Thank you." She rose from her chair and passed him. Avoiding his eyes she vanished into the bathroom. His first instinct was catching her off guard and forcing the truth out of her, but what good would that do in the end? He wanted her to trust him entirely. It never had been more crucial. If she didn't trust him and kept secrets from him, how could he trust her?

***

When she came out of the bathroom the lights in the bedroom were already switched off. Only the lights from the lanterns in the Palace Garden spread some light over the room.

She was sure he wasn't sleeping yet, but she didn't turn on the light on her way. She slipped under the sheets and slowly closed the physical distance between them. Wrapping her arm around him she buried her face in the crook of his neck inhaling his scent and absorbing his warmth. Amazing how his nearness could make her feel better…

She felt him stiffen against her body. But he only turned his head and didn't return her embrace.

"Clarisse? You're naked!" Confusion lay in his voice. Confusion and a hint of disbelief.

"Am I? You tell me!"

"20 minutes ago you wanted to take my head off!"

"I'm sorry… I know I was too harsh." She bit her lips and backed off. Unexpected for her he pulled her back into his arms and said huskily: "Sex is a wonderful thing but it won't help us to see this through when we aren't completely honest with each other!"

"Can't you just accept that I don't want you or anyone else to discredit Rupert?"

"That's hardly what we wanted to achieve!"

"I know but that's exactly where it'll lead!" She leaned her head against his chest and took a deep breath. "I need you now more than ever before. I can't argue with you and stand strong in Parliament and in front of my son and his so-called father at the same time!"

"I don't want to argue with you either," he agreed and enfolded her in his arms. Her naked skin under his hands felt warm and soft. A feeling he could never get enough of.

"Did you love him?"

"Is that important?"

"I just need to understand. I have a feeling that there's so much about you and him I don't know a thing about!"

She raised her head and cupped his face. "I love you. Only you… I never understood what real love was before I met you. Does that answer your question?"

It didn't answer everything for him but seeing the honesty in her face and the love in her eyes it was enough – for now.

"I love you too."

She sank back into his arms and started to kiss him. Softly and almost lazily their mouths melded. The sensual dance of their tongues turned into a tango when hands opened buttons and removed his pyjama until he was as naked as she was. Driven by the wish to treasure and worship each other more than ever before they loved the night away...

***


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

To avoid the cold Frankie pulled her coat and scarf closer around her. Damn, fall was coming early this year. It was still quite early and the Palace still seemed to be asleep, but she knew better. She had spent a lot of time in there when she was younger and had experienced how busy the Palace staff already was at this hour. Like a swan that swam gracefully over the water while his feet did all the work under water unseen and unknown by his audience.

The footman let her enter the Palace and with fast steps she made her way through the entrance hall and the ball room to the wing where Joe still occupied an office although he wasn't the Head of Security anymore. On her way she passed a young man with dark hair who immediately stopped her and demanded her ID. "Excuse me, Ma'am, but no one is allowed to be here except members of the Palace staff!" he told her and seemed to grow with every word. Frankie smiled. How effective and cute.

"Listen, I have an appointed with His Highness, the Duke of Pyrus. Why don't you tell him I'm here? My name is Francesca DeLesseps. I'm working for the Prime Minister."

That wasn't exactly true but how else could she describe her actual profession?

"Wait here!" the young man ordered and Frankie rolled her eyes. There was nothing better than waiting in a cold hallway!

***

While fixing his cufflinks Joe looked down at his wife. She lay on her stomach embracing her pillow and was still sound asleep. He knew she would be upset when she woke up and learned he had let her sleep and given orders to let her rest until 10 o'clock, but he had decided it was best for her. She needed all the strength she could gather and since today's sole appointment was in the afternoon her schedule wouldn't be disturbed.

He grabbed his jacket, put it on and unable to resist he bent over Clarisse and kissed her naked shoulder. He inhaled her scent and sighed. Leaving the bed to get dressed had been difficult after she had slept in his arms the whole night. Awaking her with kisses and making love to her had been much more tempting than getting up.

"Don't you have an appointment with Shades?"

He smiled. "Why are you awake?"

"You should know by now that you'll never be able to sneak out of my bed unnoticed!"

He backed off to offer her enough space to turn on her back and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"How did you sleep?" he asked and traced her cheek with his thumb. "Quite well, fortunately. I was blessed with the right company!" A smile played around her lips as she ran her hands over his arms.

"Hear, hear!"

"I'm serious!"

"Oh, I hope so." They exchanged a tender smile and silence fell over them for a few moments. Having her lying almost underneath him, naked and with slightly blushed cheeks as to testify their lovemaking the night before was a temptation. A sensual and dangerous temptation, because he had something else to accomplish as soon as possible – outside this bedroom.

"I have to go…," he whispered throatily and tried to give her a quick kiss on the lips, but as he feared she wouldn't let him get away with it. Quickly, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he rose from the bed and kissed him passionately. Unable to resist he sank down again and pressed her to him; one hand on her naked back and the other one slipping under the blanket and fondling the skin of her hips while they kissed with growing hunger. He dragged her back to the head of the bed and started clumsily to remove his shoes with his feet.

"I thought you had to go…," she mumbled against his lips, teased them with the tip of her tongue as a sneaky smile crossed her face. For a few seconds he looked into her glittering eyes. His decision was made as he recognised the challenge in them and he responded with the same attitude. "Oh, I have to…"

His mouth captured hers and she started chuckling when his fingertips ran tickling over her sides of her body…

***

One hour later Frankie was sitting in Joe's old office with the young man whose name was Lionel as she had found out by now, watching her. At least he had brought her a hot, strong coffee and another one later after he had made sure that she and Joe had indeed an appointment. But Joe hadn't shown up so far and she was getting nervous. In one hour and a half she had to give her first lecture at university and she didn't want to be late on her first day.

"Are you sure the Duke knows I'm here?" she asked Lionel for the second time. He sat at a small desk in the corner of Joe's office. Apparently Joe preferred to have a full view at him from his place behind his desk. Unfortunately, it also meant Lionel was sitting right behind her now and it annoyed her to no end. He nodded and explained to her, still suspiciously. "I've talked to Her Majesty's assistant and she said His Highness will be here soon!"

"Soon…" She sighed and turned around again. She hated waiting and she hated to be watched by this kid while she had to wait. She couldn't help feeling that his eyes were boring into her shoulder blades.

"Frankie, I'm sorry!" She turned her head when Joe rushed into the room and almost jumped from her chair. "But… well, Clarisse and I had something to discuss!"

"Sure…" He kissed her cheek and she noticed that he was avoiding her eyes. "I know Honeymooners," she remarked dryly and Joe cleared his throat. His gaze fell on Lionel who had obediently risen up from his chair when Joe had entered the room.

"Your Highness!"

"Lionel… what are you doing here?"

"Shades asked me to do some background checks on certain persons… I'm reading their personnel files!"

"I see…" Joe looked at Frankie and hinted with his head at the door. "Why don't we take a walk in the garden?"

"The garden…," Frankie repeated confusedly. He gave her a stern glance and nodded firmly. She gave Lionel a sidelong look and put a smile on her face. "Sure, let's take a walk… in the foggy garden. Wet grass is a delight for my new shoes!"

"Very well then!"

Joe offered her his arm and they left the office leaving a bewildered Lionel behind.

***

Clarisse finished her tea and put the newspaper aside. As she had expected, the rags were still full of rumours, half-truths and accusations about the "King's" return. It made her sick to read how the press was speculating about her their personnel life and her marriage with Rupert and about the way all this could affect her new marriage to Joseph who had after all "only" been her bodyguard as Elsie Kentworthy had pointed out in her latest column. Couldn't those people find another way to make their living?

"Your Majesty." Charlotte came in and took a bow. "How are you today?"

"I'm much better. Thank you, Charlotte! Have you gotten what I asked you for?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Two dozen of red roses from your garden. The gardener will bring them over as soon as he is finished!"

"Thank you. I'll take a walk and be back before lunch. If someone calls, just tell them I'll call back!"

"Of course, Ma'am," Charlotte said and observed her boss from the corners of her eyes. It happened every now and then that the Queen asked her to obtain some roses, and every time she vanished for several hours and never allowed anyone to accompany her. Often she had lied to Joe about the whole thing or just never told him she had left the Palace.

Charlotte had always wondered what all this could have been about but she had never dared to follow her or to tell Joe about it. But it certainly surprised her that now the Queen and Joe were married he still didn't seem to know. He would never let her go all by herself, not even on her own grounds. Not with this strange man around who said he was King Rupert.

"Is there anything else, Charlotte?" Clarisse asked curiously as her assistant still stood in front of her desk. "No, Ma'am. It's alright. If you'll excuse me now..." She bowed again and left the office.

***

"I've been thinking about something, Frankie," Joe said when he was sure nobody was around. They were standing near the beautiful gazebo in front of a flowerbed of roses which had clearly suffered from the bad weather of the last days.

"Shoot!"

"I think you need a security man."

"I do?"

She made a face. Obviously, she was mistrusting his opinion. "I don't think so."

"I think you do. You're involved in all this as much as we are. You need protection!"

"Rubbish. You know how much I've always hated to be watched!"

"But you have to agree that even 20 years ago it was necessary for you to have a bodyguard!"

"Oh please… I was never attacked and neither was Pierre!" She sighed stubbornly.

"But both of his parents were and we knew it was only a matter of time before it could happen to the Crown Prince and his fiancée!"

"But it never happened! Look, you did a fine job as Pierre's and my watchdog, but I don't see why I should need protection now!"

Joe sighed. "Will you just listen to me?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. He took it as a sign of attention and continued: "You've seen Lionel inside my office."

"The boy."

"Yes, him. He's the Prime Minister's nephew and was interning for the summer to learn about security. It's autumn now and he hasn't left, because the Prime Minister told Clarisse that Lionel has no wish to return to his Lycée this fall."

"Okay… so he's too lazy to study. And?"

"As I said he is Motaz' nephew and he's been around for quite some time now and he has always had a certain interest in Clarisse…" He gave her a look that obviously demanded her utter comprehension. She responded with amusement. "You think he's a spy? That kid? Oh, come on! He can't separate a fork from a spoon!"

He knew the idea was ridiculous, but he didn't want to take any risk and some of the coincidences of the last few days were a bit too convenient for his taste. If he could minimize the risks he wouldn't hesitate to do so.

"I don't know… but last night our dear King paid Clarisse a visit – in our suite. There must be an insider in the Palace who told him how to use the secret passage to our quarters!"

Frankie nodded, visibly concerned now. "I see…I guess he's the only new member of the staff and that's why you suspect him."

"Yes. Look, I know he might be completely innocent but I want to be sure."

"So, you want him to watch me… or to be precisely you want me to watch him!"

"Correct."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, Joe…"

"He's very attentive!"

"Where I come from attentive is another word for annoying!"

Joe chuckled: "Well, I'm sure you can make the best of it! I heard the ambassador has left for London again!"

The playful punch on his arm caught him by surprise. "Oh, shut up! Don't think that every guard in black receives my attention!" Her cheeks were blushing and she turned away.

"I'm glad to hear that. So…"

"So… does he at least have a driving license?"

***

Clarisse froze in her movements when she stepped out of the terrace door and saw Joseph and Frankie talking near the gazebo. She heard laughter and noticed the playful interaction – and it hurt. Hadn't he just slept with her before he left for his meeting with Shades? And now… the person down there with him in the garden was obviously not Shades. Why did he lie to her?

She looked down at the roses on her arm. She couldn't say, she was completely honest with him either, but at least she was about to see someone who couldn't be a threat to their marriage. She shook her head. She had no time to be jealous. The last thing she needed was to question Joseph's faithfulness and his loyalty. She knew he loved her… two hours ago he had told and shown her so over and over again. He loved her… there was no doubt about it.

She watched them leaving some moments later and stepped back into the Palace hiding behind the curtains until she was sure they had left and wouldn't see her. Then she opened the door again and snuck across the terrace to a staircase which lead to the backside of the courtyard.

***

"Your connection is ready, Sir!"

Delighted, Sebastian Motaz pushed the Intercom button to thank his secretary and turned around in his chair to face the screen behind his desk. Modern technology and its ways to connect with other people really was an amazing thing.

"Lord Delesseps!" he greeted the man whose face appeared on the screen. "What a pleasure to talk to you again!"

"Prime Minister." The man nodded politely and gave him a hesitant smile. Henry DeLesseps was known as a poker face in the political world. Not even his fellow party members were able to discern what he was thinking or doing next. His reputation of being unpredictable and controversial was known to everyone and Motaz had only one ace to play and that was Henry's well-hidden sympathy towards Clarisse Renaldi.

"I think you've already heard about the unfortunate incident around Princess Mia's coronation. A real tragedy for our country. We all are not ourselves these days!"

"Who is?" Delesseps shrugged. "I only hope Her Majesty won't be too affected by all this!"

"Well, actually she already is. And she'll be even more so, in case we learn that the man is who he claims to be! Or let's say…he is able to prove it!"

"I see… but what do you want from me? How can a member of the House of Lords be able to help you in this case?"

"I called you, Sir, because I trust you." Motaz cleared his throat. "Since I know how much you care for the Royal family of Genovia I was wondering if you could provide us with your… let's say unofficial help. Your daughter is already sitting our boat although I have to say she's much too aggressive in her actions. A bit more diplomacy and tact from her side would be more helpful!"

"My daughter? What on earth could Francesca do for you?"

The voice of DeLesseps had been cold before, but at the mention of his daughter's name it dropped a few degrees more. Motaz could see the same facial expression of dislike as in his daughters face when they talked about Henry the day before.

"Well, she is exceptionally bright, full of knowledge about our laws and history and she owes this country a big deal after she sent its Crown Prince into a lifelong celibacy and a partial insanity, if you ask me! But we have the situation under control."

"And what do you want from me?"

"You have connections to the MI6 and the Secret Service. Use these connections to find out who attended a secret meeting in London three weeks ago. Prince Pierre was there as well as some gentlemen whose identities are still unknown. Maybe even our friend was there with him and the logical consequence is that something about him must be found in London. Rumour has it, the other attendees belong to the Genovian noblesse or have been banned from here, but I want names and biographies."

Henry Delesseps sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm not sure about this," he said after some moments of hesitation. "To get this kind of information I have to ask people who are not especially fond of me since I successfully intervened with the latest reform of the MI5 to save money we desperately need in other fields."

"I'm sure Her Majesty would appreciate your effort."

"I'll think about it and let you know my decision later." The screen went black without warning. Worriedly, Motaz picked up the phone and dialled another number.

"Your Excellency? It's me… I don't know if he'll do it… no… listen, there might be another way… why don't you call Marcel DeClerc?"

***

After Clarisse had arrived at her destination in the back of the courtyard she had placed the roses in front of the white marmoreal gravestone and since then kept staring at it, admiring the contrast between the red flowers and the pale colour of the stone. The engraved name in dark letters on the eternal stone in the grass would never lose its effect on her. She had never been someone who relied much on the past, because she had learnt that the past faded as dreams did, but every now and then coming here gave her a certain kind of peace. Maybe it was, because she didn't have to share this place with anyone else. Maybe because it was simply peaceful. She was on her own here and no one disturbed the silence that lay over the grounds.

"Can you tell me what to do? You know… I wished I didn't have to lose you, but right now I can't cope with your shadows…"

She bent down and touched the old-fashioned letters on the cold stone. Letter by letter she traced the name with her fingertips and blinked a tear away.

"I miss you, Christian Eric Jerome Rupert Renaldi. More than you could ever know."

***

_The snow flakes danced in the light of the lanterns in the old city and distorted the sight of the Eiffel Tower. Winter had fallen over Paris quite surprisingly after Christmas and New Years Eve had brought nothing but rain and temperatures as in spring._

_The freshly fallen snow seemed to absorb every sound of the city and left only the glittering side of it, reminding people why Paris was the most beautiful city in the world. But the beautiful scenery didn't do anything good to Clarisse right now. Inside her suite high above the city lights she was raging in anger, disappointment and hurt._

_"Don't touch me!" she screamed at him and avoided his grip. They had been arguing for an hour now. She had yelled at him, had called him names and had thrown everything at him she could get her hands on. The beautiful suite had turned into a battle field and she didn't know how to stop herself. Tears ran over her face and her heart bumped in her chest threatening to explode within her. Not that it would matter. What was there to live for? The man she had dedicated her life to had betrayed her – as a woman and as Queen of his country._

_"Clarisse, please calm down! I know you're hurt, I know you're angry! But let me explain!"_

_A beautifully shaped floor vase got in her way and she simply picked it up. She aimed and Rupert had to jump aside to avoid the flying object that ended against the old Monet over the mantelpiece of the fireplace. She stopped moving for a second and breathed in deeply, exhausted and tired from their argument. It was a nightmare. It must be a nightmare._

_He used her temporary stillness to reach her. Her body stiffened when he drew her into his arms, and she started fighting him again. Her fists hit his bare chest and his arms as she tried to bite his shoulder to break free…_

_"Do you have any idea what you've done to me? I trusted you!"_

_"And you can trust me!"_

_"Why?! How could you? You knew what I've given up to be with you! And what did you do? I curse the day I met you…" She trailed off, words replaced by a new swell of tears._

_He pressed her a little closer to him and reassuringly roamed over her back with his hands. Her screams were fading. Loud and heart-breaking sobs came out of her throat while he kept holding her trembling body._

_"I know, I know… and that's why it hurts so much! I never wanted to see you unhappy, Clarisse, never!"_

_They stayed that way until she was able to talk again. She pushed him back. The make up she had applied before she left to meet the French President's wife had been messed up completely and even ruined the collar of her white suit. A suit she loved._

_"Listen to me… I never want to see that whore again! My children will never learn any of this! Do you hear me? I don't want my sons to know that their father is an ungrateful and unfaithful bastard! Is that clear?" Her blue eyes glittered dangerously and he had no doubt that she meant what she said._

_"It isn't that easy, Clarisse!"_

_"That is not my problem! You owe me something, Christian Eric Jerome Rupert Renaldi and I expect you to make it up to me!"_

_***_

Francesca took her glasses off and put them on the lectern. Most students had already left the lecture room and only a few were left who were extremely slow in packing their things. She considered it curiosity, because of course she knew that they knew who she was. The almost Queen of Genovia. The ex-fiancée of Pierre, the ex Crown Prince, now a priest in small a French parish.

She pretended not to acknowledge their presence and continued to make notes on her script. The Genovian Constitution would make an interesting subject for her next lecture. It would be fascinating to see how her students evaluated the recent events.

She heard the door slam and looked up. To her surprise she wasn't alone. A man in black stood at the top of the stairs and stared at her. Even without her glasses she knew who he was. Surprised she closed her script and left the lectern.

"Pierre?"

"Yes, it's me." He came downstairs and she waited for him with her arms crossed over her chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"Actually, I'm not sure," he said and looked around. "It's been a while since I was here. Great subject you chose for your first lecture… The development of Genovia's constitutional monarchy in the 19th century. You hit the nail."

"Shouldn't you be with your new friends?" she asked impatiently.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh please… those guys who do their best to send you mother to hell!" she said furiously and realized it was the wrong way to address him. After all, now was her chance to talk some sense into him. So she added more gently. "You're breaking her heart, Pierre! I hope you know that."

"I know you think I'm cruel, but…"

"No but! Pierre, that man is an impostor! I can't believe you buy his story! Even if the King were alive he would never do the things he is doing now! Your mother was way too dear to him to do this to her!"

Pierre didn't answer. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. But Francesca had no intention to end their conversation just like that. She needed to get through to him. "We know, you and this man who pretends to be your father met some people in London. Believe me, it's just a matter of time until we've found out who is responsible for all this. Hiding your father's body and faking a DNA test won't help you. What you're doing is called high treason. And I will prove it! I don't understand how you can be involved in something like this. The Pierre I knew, loved his country and his family dearly and he would never sacrifice one for the other!"

When she didn't receive an answer for the second time she turned on her heels and went back to the lectern to get her bag. She had tried…

Stunned by her last words Pierre followed her with his eyes: "What are you talking about? I wasn't in London!"

Frankie stopped. "Of course you were. My sources never make mistakes. The meeting was covered as a conference at the Ritz. You attended. I'm sure your passport can prove that."

"I don't know what meeting you're talking about." His voice sounded stunned but she didn't believe it. Frustrated she turned and faced him again: "Don't be ridiculous and don't insult my intelligence!"

"I wouldn't dream of it!"

"You and those men want to take over the throne. I don't know the reason yet, but I'm quite sure it has nothing to do with Mia becoming Queen, because you should know that your mother wouldn't abdicate if she weren't convinced Mia can do the job! You conspire with power hungry people and you don't care that the rest of your family is suffering!"

"It's for the best! Mia is too young and Mother…" He broke off and squeezed his eyes shut. A moan escaped his throat and he touched his forehead with his hand.

"Pierre?" She asked worriedly. His body started faltering dangerously and she grabbed his shoulder to stabilize him. "What's wrong with you?"

He didn't answer but after a few moments removed his hand from his head and opened his eyes again. "Nothing," he mumbled, "I'm fine. If you'll excuse me…" rushing away he escaped the lecture room.

"Pierre, wait!" she yelled after him and followed him upstairs, but she was too late. In the busy hallway of the university she couldn't say where he had vanished.

***

_Clarisse hardly knew how she had made it through the Opera that night. All she could remember was that her assistant had interrupted her argument with Rupert to remind them about their evening program. "La Traviata" with the President of France and his wife. VIP lounge… the eyes of the press and the Parisian citizens focused more on her and Rupert than on the performers on the stage. How she hated the attention, the curiosity and the envious glances as if she was living a fairy tale._

_She had been working on autopilot for the last few hours. She talked, smiled and laughed as if nothing had happened, as if her world hadn't shattered into pieces, but not once her smile reached her eyes and maybe no one was expecting it from her. Functioning was part of what she had been raised and trained for all her life, no matter how bad things actually were._

_Down on the stage the opera was slowly finding its end when Violetta and Alfredo shared their dreams of a shared, happy future despite their knowledge of her upcoming death. Hope and love were dying last… at least for them._

_Clarisse squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to cover her ears… she didn't want to hear the music. She didn't want to see any of this. She had shut its sound out since she had arrived here. The last thing she wanted to see was Violetta fighting her last forlorn battle against death. It hurt too much… the music reached her heart and soul. She tried her very best and swallowed the tears that already choked her. She blinked them away but the dam broke as Violetta lost her fight with death._

_Tears streamed over her face and she could taste their salt on her lips. Paralysed she didn't even realize she missed that Rupert was offering her a handkerchief. The audience around her was bursting with applause and joy about the most stunning premiere the city had ever seen, but she was unable to join the enthusiasm while her heart came back to life and pain._

_Suddenly she felt Rupert's warm hand searching for hers. The warmth of his skin startled her and made her shiver. Then his fingers entwined with hers and squeezed them gently. She held her breath upon the tender pressure and turned her head to face him._

_His eyes pleaded for forgiveness as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. She didn't pull it back immediately but waited until they had risen from their chairs to join in the enthusiastic celebration of the successful opening night._

***

Francesca was on the way to her car in the parking lot of the university when her cell rang. Since she could see Lionel waiting for her leaned against her car she stopped and searched for the mobile in her bag. She didn't want him to overhear her calls.

"Finally!" she said relieved and took the call. "Hey… do you have them?… What do you mean?… But they must be somewhere… he died in the hospital… and the death certificate?… I see… please try again… search everywhere! Please… you're my last hope! Thank you!" She ended the phone call put it back into her bag. Her facial expression changed to what she hoped was a smile as she approached Lionel. "Good afternoon, Lionel!"

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. Where are we going?" He rushed around the big, luxurious vehicle and opened the car door for her.

"We go to my family's home. I'll show you the way," she said as she climbed into the car. "It's outside Pyrus."

***

"You're cold!" Joseph remarked as he kissed Clarisse's cheek. He had just come back from his old office and had found Clarisse sitting behind her desk working through some letters.

"Actually I feel a bit cold. I already asked Priscilla for tea. Want to join me?"

"Sure… I have to tell you something."

"Oh." She took off her glasses and followed Joseph to the couch. "So, what happened?" she asked as they were sitting down.

"First, come here." He opened his arms to offer her a warming embrace. She recalled seeing him with Frankie in the morning and hesitated. Then he smiled warmly at her and she gave in.

"That feels good." He kissed her hair and brushed his hands over her arms.

"So?" she asked curiously and waited.

"I removed Lionel from the Palace," he explained and she gave him a surprised look.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I want to eliminate every possible person that could give away information about the Palace!"

"Joseph! Lionel is Sebastian's nephew!"

"Exactly!" Seeing her frustration he added quickly. "Look, I don't think he's dangerous, but I have such a feeling and I don't want to take any risks! Somehow our dear friend managed to come into our suite and I don't want that to happen again!"

To avoid another argument she nodded. "I see… and what did you tell him?"

"I told him to protect Francesca."

"Excuse me?"

"Not that she needs protection… she can keep an eye on him and he won't bother us any more. It's the perfect solution!"

"Your tea, Your Majesty!"

Clarisse broke their embrace and sat up. Joe sighed amusedly when he saw Clarisse brushing her hair behind her ears. She still was embarrassed when someone witnessed them while they embraced or shared a kiss. Priscilla, armed with a tray with tea and small sandwiches, came in and put it on the small coffee table in front of the couch.

"Thank you, Priscilla."

The maid bowed and left the suite again.

"The perfect solution," Clarisse repeated and shook her head while she filled their cups with tea. "I don't know what the poor boy has ever done to you!"

"Nothing… he just annoyed the crap out of me!"

"I noticed that! But I like him and I don't appreciate that you didn't ask me about my opinion! In the evening Sebastian will come over. What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Tell him that you fear for Francesca's well-being… and that in your opinion Lionel is the right one to protect her!"

He managed to keep a straight face until she threw a cushion at him. "Oh tush!" Pretending to be angry she took her cup and took a large sip of hot tea.

"A Queen shouldn't throw things at her husband!"

"A Queen should do certain other things to her husband!"

"Is that so?" He leant over to her, took the cup out of her hand and kissed her.

"You could add a thing or two," she smiled and snuck her arms around his neck.

"Oh, we can add the book if you want!" He started kissing her neck down to her shoulder blade. When he reached one of the fading but still visible red marks he had left on her two nights ago he stopped and looked up.

"Or maybe we avoid the whole book until your skin has fully recovered!"

She wiped her lipstick from his mouth and shook her head. "My skin and I are perfectly fine!"

The phone on her desk rang and interrupted another kiss. He sighed and broke the kiss reluctantly when she signalled him she wanted to answer the call.

"I'm sorry!" she mouthed and picked up the receiver. "Yes, ah Charlotte… they called you? And?…" Joe rose from the couch when he saw that Clarisse's face lost its colour. "Thank you, Charlotte."

Clarisse hung up and looked at Joseph: "That test results are ready. Sebastian will bring them over in fifteen minutes."


	10. Chapter 9

Thank you for your kind reviews. I enjoy writing flashbacks, because it offers me to tell more about Clarisse and Rupert's relationship. Even parts that are not needed for the main plot. But if they annoy you let me know!

**Chapter 9**

_Just let me hold you while you're falling apart  
Just let me hold you and we'll both fall down_

***

_The sun burned mercilessly down on them. It was the hottest day the annual Genovian parade had ever seen. Although she wore a hat and had used sunscreen to avoid getting sunburned, she felt her cheeks redden under the sun. The people of Genovia were sweating just as much but at least they could dress less official than she had to._

_The carriage stopped at the gates of the old Cathedral and Rupert was the first one to climb out of it. When she took his extended hand she felt that he was sweating even more in his high-collared uniform than she did._

_"A Kingdom for a bathtub filled with cool water," she whispered exhaustedly into his ear._

_"Add a bottle of ice-tea and iced cups and the deal is done."_

_"Alright."_

_"If you don't mind I'll reduce the number of our watchdogs for that occasion!"_

_The carriage drove away and Rupert, still holding Clarisse's hand, stepped forward to wave at the waiting crowd. The police and Palace Security had increased the number of guards and also made sure the fences that separated the crowd from the Royal Family were higher than usual and left a bigger gap between the church and the street._

_Behind Clarisse and Rupert another carriage arrived and stopped in front at the gates. The princes Philippe and Pierre as well as Pierre's fiancée and her father climbed out and joined them. Always close to the family stood a troop if black-dressed men who were observing the whole scenery with nervous attention. The annual parade and the celebration service of Genovia's Independence Day always aroused the interest of many people and the media from all over the world, but the official engagement of the Crown Prince and his future bride had brought even more attention to Genovia than expected._

_People's ovations increased when Pierre showed off his young, beautiful fiancée. She waved and smiled at the crowd and seemed more pleased than embarrassed with the attention the men and women down on the street paid her._

_However, not everyone who paid attention to the Royal Family showed a friendly interest. Lately, a number of threatening letters had reached the Palace and they explicitly announced the death of one member of Genovia's first family. The colourful parade and the joyful atmosphere couldn't hide the underlying tension._

_Against the wish of Parliament Rupert had refused to call off the parade, and the rest of the family had agreed and had insisted on business as usual._

_Security was tight and new men had been hired but the expansion of the security team had happened only a few weeks ago and plans had been changed over and over again, because the King didn't agree with the original idea to stay away from the people after the parade. In the end, the Prime Minister succeeded and the announced the walk about had been cancelled._

_But the King weren't the King if he hadn't had the very last word on it. The idea had been spinning in his head the whole night and in the morning and he knew he could count on Clarisse._

_Joe sensed trouble._

_When he saw the King and his wife nod at each other he knew something was wrong. When they actually started to move into the wrong direction the conclusion was easily drawn. He cursed silently and could see how the nerves of his colleagues became visibly strained when they realized that the Royal couple obviously had changed their plans and instead of going into the church to meet the Archbishop went to the people on the street. He had been Prince Pierre's bodyguard only for a few months, but he had seen right through the system and he certainly had gotten an idea about the King's stubbornness when it came to his public appearances._

_The gathered crowd on the street greeted the Royal Family with growing enthusiasm. Behind their parents Pierre, Philippe as well as Francesca and her father followed with a hectically discussing group of security men on their heels._

_"Did you know any of this?" he hissed into Francesca's ear. She blushed and turned her head: "No, I swear, Joe."_

_"Fantastic!" he grumped and roamed the crowd nervously. The King and the Queen had already started to talk to people behind the fences. Everybody was smiling and chit chatting. People made photos, pushed their babies forward to get the Queen's attention. She received flowers and stuffed toys and Rupert as well as some of the security men had to carry them for her. He felt panic rising in him. His instinct told him something was wrong. The little bell in his head rang louder and louder by the second._

_God knew he was no trained bodyguard, but twenty years of military service had taught him something about danger. He could smell it here like he had smelled shortly a crump thrown by terrorist from the ETA that had shattered his right knee, effectively ending his police service for him.  
He pulled a new, younger colleague whose name he wasn't familiar with at his sleeve and placed with wordlessly behind Francesca and her father. "You stay with them!"_

_While the King and his wife continued their walk-about in a slow pace he did his best to surround the small group to get closer to the King. The tension in him rose steadily. And then he saw it. The knife. He knew it was there before it mysteriously rose out of the crowd in front of the King and his wife. The blade glinted in the sunlight and his scream mixed with the screams of the people who had seen the weapon as well. The King turned his head and his eyes widened in shock when he realized he wasn't the target. The screaming young man who had thrown himself against the fence aimed the knife at the queen._

_Joe pushed Pierre and Philippe aside, his eyes focused on the beautiful face of Clarisse Renaldi who stared at the man but seemed paralysed and didn't move. Through the rising noise he bellowed orders at his colleagues who tried to get through the people who were gathering on the street after more of the fences had fallen on the street._

_"Clarisse!"_

_Before Joe reached the Queen, Rupert had already grabbed her. He covered her with his body and the knife destined for Clarisse cut into his lower arm. The blood immediately spread over his uniform. The Queen screamed when she realized what had happened, his blood running over her hand. Rupert's face became a grimace of pain and a small scream of pain escaped his throat. Trying desperately to get a hold on him Clarisse sank to the ground protectively bending over him…_

_***_

The fingertips of her fingers were touching her nose while she listened to the frantic and loud exchange of words around her. The Parliament session had started chaotically, had continued chaotically and had become a complete mess after Motaz had announced the result of the DNA test. She had known what the result would be the second the man had agreed on the test. She had prepared herself for the moment Parliament would install him as the new old sovereign of Genovia ever since and now that it could actually happen she could at least appear to be calm and rational. Deep down inside she wanted to turn her head and search for Joseph to make eye contact with him. His dark, calm eyes would reassure her and give her strength, but she couldn't allow herself to do so. Until now she had tried to keep Joseph out of the official political discussion. She had tried to make sure her personal interests wouldn't appear to be stronger than her wish to serve her country. Did it hurt him? It did for sure. Did he understand it? He had told her so.

"Gentlemen!" Again Motaz used his hammer to force the members of Parliament into silence. The chaotic atmosphere in the room was annoying him. The only one who benefited from the disaster was the man who stood relaxed and self-confident in the middle of the room and simply waited for something to happen.

"Gentlemen, silence!" Motaz yelled again and slowly the hectic discussion died out. "As I see it, we have a clear result of the DNA test. According to it, you, Sir, are Christian Eric Jerome Rupert Renaldi, the former King of Genovia."

Clarisse didn't move. She knew people's eyes were on her, but she refused to give them any response. What she needed was time and she could only hope Sebastian would help her buying it.

Behind the members of Parliament the rest of the family waited, almost motionless, for a solution to the confusing situation. They had talked about it over and over again and had decided it was best if no one showed a reaction. The demonstration of strength and stability was all they could offer to support Clarisse. They all had all known the result before Motaz had announced it.

Mia clutched Helen's hand. Her face was pale but all in all she was composed. Joseph wore his usual poker face. It wasn't the first time his new position as consort of the Queen annoyed him. He had lost the power he had had as Head of Security. So far he had been treated as Duke of Pyrus, but the second the man down there claimed his position as King Rupert his own position in the Palace threatened to fade.

What would happen, if Rupert not only became King again but also wanted his rightful place as her husband back? So far he and Clarisse had avoided the subject altogether and he feared the outcome of such a discussion, but they had to face it, no matter how hard she ignored it.

"May I speak?" the man in the uniform asked politely and Sebastian nodded.

"As far as I am concerned, all the doubts about my true identity have been eliminated. Again I want to apologize for the confusion and the misunderstandings I created, but my health didn't allow me to act in any other way. I know I hurt my family – especially my wife – and my beloved country with my behaviour, but please remember I only came back, because now I'll be able to stay. I promise I'll make it up to my country and my family." He made a pause.

"I wish you would see how wrong all this is," Frankie whispered to Pierre who sat next to her and Joseph.

"He'll be a good King. He was a good King before he had to leave and once people allow him again to guide them, all will right again," Pierre returned without looking at her.

"You live a dream, Pierre. Your father is dead. We aren't children anymore… one day you'll have to accept that."

"I want to make a motion, Prime Minister."

Motaz focused the man and nodded – again. He was reluctant, because he knew what would follow but the matter was out of his hands right now.

"Go ahead, please," he said with a small gesture and glanced the Queen who still sat back in her chair and observed the man down in the arena as she used to call it.

"I want to bring forward the motion of installing me back as King of Genovia without prejudicing Queen Clarisse's constitutional rights as Head of the State. She should have the same legal rights as a monarch as I have. With this motion I refer to the precedent in our constitution Parliament dismissed in 1869 after King Chevalier demanded his throne back after he was declared dead mistakenly after a battle in the South of France."

"I see… the law you refer to, as ancient as it is, is still… kind of valid," Motaz said seriously.

The man made a bow and looked at Clarisse: "Will you support my motion, Madam?"

Clarisse rose from her chair and cleared her throat: "Our constitution experienced some dramatic changes over the last 150 years. I'm not sure the law you refer to is still working in the 21st century. I motion to install a commission of experts to analyse the situation."

"My legal advice has already done so. Lady DeLesseps…," he pointed at Francesca, "Lady DeLesseps already questioned me about the law and thanks to her expertise I'm sure we can say how valid the law is – even if we live in the 21st century. Milady?"

Francesca reluctantly rose from her seat: "Well, since it doesn't happen every year or decade that a dead King comes back from the dead. Therefore, I agree with Her Majesty that the matter should be analysed by experts. The precedent from 1869 appears rather ancient and out of the real world, so to speak, to be a real matter in all this."

Motaz nodded. "I can only agree with this. So who supports the Queen's motion?"

"Aye."

"Aye…"

Several hands raised in the air and Motaz counted them. "That's the majority," Motaz said clearly relieved. "I think that's the decision. We'll install a commission of experts that will hopefully bring some reasonable and sensible solution for this problem."

Clarisse took a deep breath and sank back into her chair. She turned her head and allowed herself a soft smile into Joseph's direction. He returned her smile that remained unnoticed through the renewed discussion between the members of Parliament.

Motaz was about to use his hammer again to close the session as the King cleared his throat. "Excuse me but…"

"Yes."

"I think you misunderstood something… no matter if you denounce my motion or not. I'm still Christian Eric Jerome Rupert Renaldi. You can take away my rightful position. You can even separate me from my wife but you can't take my birth rights away from me and one of them is this Palace."

"Excuse me?" Clarisse asked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"The Palace doesn't belong to the State. Just as the Winter Palace, it belongs to the Renaldi family. So far my wife took care of the grounds and the buildings but I'm back and no matter how long you'll deny me the crown you can't deny me my private possession."

Motaz and Clarisse exchanged a glance and Motaz cleared his throat. "I see… so you want to throw out her Majesty and the rest of the family to secure your claim on this building? But I'm sure you're aware of the public function of this Palace as heart of Genovia."

"I'm very much aware of it. All I want is the right to live under my own roof – with my family."

Clarisse bit her lips and thought for a moment. She didn't expect this but the more she thought about it the more she realized what could happen if she didn't play along. The last thing she needed was to be responsible for even more destabilizing decisions in her reign. She drew a deep breath and finally said: "Prime Minister, I have an idea."

"Your Majesty."

"My offer is to grant you the whole west wing of the palace until the commission has decided on the matter. This part of the Palace was completely renovated just some weeks ago."

"The west wing is pretty far away from the official state rooms and offices."

"That's my offer. Take it or leave it." Her voice was stern cold as steel. For some seconds the tension rose until it was almost unbearable. Then he gave in. "Anything you wish. But…"

"Yes?"

"We have talked enough about laws and constitution but there's still one subject we haven't touched so far. Our marriage."

Someone in the corner of the room cleared his throat and rose from his seat. Heads turned and the man made a meaningful pause before he said: "Since this certain subject falls into my expertise as the representative of the holy church I would like to give a statement on the matter."

***

_"Sometimes I really don't understand you, Rupert," Clarisse said absentmindedly as she added another piece of wood to the fire._

_"Why?" he asked and refilled her glass with red wine._

_"You can't tell me, the invitation of Henry DeLesseps and his daughter was just an act of compassion. I know you better." Satisfied with the growth of the fire she sat back, turned and took her glass from the table before she turned her back on Rupert and concentrated on the flames in the fireplace. "I can't believe it's still so cold outside… almost April and the snow just doesn't vanish."_

_Her lame chit chat didn't have any relaxing effect on their conversation. He noticed with rising frustration that Clarisse didn't have the intention to bring their relationship back to normal. She behaved as always. Polite and full of poise. But he missed her warmth, her unconditional moral support that used to be a comforting smile or a tight hug. Since Paris she had hidden herself behind a transparent wall of ice. No touch, no smile, just professional politeness and the fact that they had to work in some way. For their boys and their country. "Don't you think that Pierre and Francesca get along rather well?"_

_"They are teenagers… don't you think it's a little odd if you start playing matchmaker?"_

_"I just want to make sure our son won't get strange ideas… he's running to the church a little too much these days."_

_She sipped from her wine before she faced him again. The light of the fire spread around the otherwise dark room and created strange shadows on her hair. He gave her a smile and raised his glass in a silent toast hoping to break the ice._

_"The girl has just lost her mother… you could show a little more decency," she said coldly and his smile froze._

_"I'm not a matchmaker and I'm not trying to pick a bride for my son at her cost, if it's that you want to tell me!"_

_"Good to know."_

_"You could have said no when I asked you to become my wife."_

_"And destroy the deal my family made with you… my father enjoyed the privileges he benefited from as the father-in-law of the King far too much… he once said it compensated the lack of attention the government paid him as a war hero."_

_He heard the bitterness in her voice and regretted his choice of words. He knew of the pressure her family had put on her years before he had finally asked her to marry him. The lack of money and title in the family had been the motivation for her family to push her into Genovia's highest circles at all cost and he had seen the opportunity to find the perfect woman for him – and his country. He owed her so much and he had always wanted to show her how much he appreciated and even loved her. She was the mother of his sons and the one person he felt closest to in life but he had hurt her deeply and now she was slipping away from him._

_"I never treated you that way… you've never just been some kind of prey to me and you know it."_

_"I thought so, yes."_

_Again, she turned her face away and stared into the flames. Sometimes he wished he didn't know her so well. Most men would simply say women were stupid and selfish and just liked to make a man's life miserable. Fact was that he knew her life was miserable. That's why he had invited DeLesseps and his daughter. That's why he had decided to let go and offer her what she denied herself and yet she didn't take his silent offer. She refused to accept the olive branch he let dangle in front of her nose…_

_"And now? Will we live like this forever? I don't want to live like that and I can't!"_

_"Well, I guess we have a problem then."_

_"You know it's in our hands to arrange our life as we want to," he said and rose from his place on the couch to join her on the floor._

_"You can arrange for anything you want… but I have two children around who might not agree with you on this."_

_"Pierre studies in Eton and Philippe is busy with school as well… soon both won't be here anymore."_

_"Thanks for reminding me."_

_"Clarisse… Look…" He breathed in deeply thinking about how to find the right words. This woman had a tendency to take things with a pinch of salt. "Look, you can have that baby… anything that makes you happy. Anything that keeps us together."_

_He had started drawing patterns on her back and felt her stiffen. Her mouth opened in pure disbelief and then she swallowed and rested her forehead on her knees._

_"I can't believe you're even suggesting…" Her voice trailed off and realization of what he was referring to dawned on her. She looked up and shook her head. As often when she was angry or frustrated her fingers ran through her hair while she tried to collect her thoughts. When she faced him again he could see the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Her tone of voice sounded defeated somehow and yet he could hear the anger inside her building up._

_"That's why you invited Henry, don't you… his wife is dead so why not cast him as Clarisse's new lover… at least I would be busy that way!"_

_"You know that's not true!"_

_She rose from her place on the floor but he grabbed her wrists and pulled her back down on her knees. When they were finally face to face he pulled her to him and hissed between clenched teeth: "Wasn't a certain Lord the reason it took you so long to think about my proposal? Wasn't he the reason for all the anger you lashed out on me when I dared to offer you a whole country and a privileged position?"_

_"A privileged position? As womb of the nation?!" she yelled and fought him to get free but he didn't let her go. Their equal frustration exploded all of a sudden and set free emotional forces that made them both trembling with pure rage._

_"As my wife! My companion, advisor and friend! I want this woman back, Clarisse! Even if that means I have to share her with someone else!"_

_"You lost this woman when you started screwing everyone who is willing enough to jump on you!"_

_"You know it wasn't like that!"_

_He got a hold on her waist and drew her closer to him. He breathed heavily, still recovering from his sudden bout of anger. But now his voice was calmer… it softened at the sight of her beautiful eyes. Eyes he had broken when he betrayed her._

_"I know I hurt you…and I know you still care for him… What I'm offering you means the freedom to chose! For once in your life you have the choice to be with him if you want  
to!"_

_They held eye contact for several moments and at a point he feared she would take his offer._

_But slowly the tension left her body and she cupped his face with her hands._

_"I don't live in the past and I won't start living a double life. I simply can't do it… all I want is my life back!"_

_It was almost a plea. A new wave of sadness overwhelmed him and made him even more drawn to her._

_"I can't give you that," he whispered with deep regret in his voice and took her in his arms. "As much as I wish I can't. All I know is that we're bound together for the rest of our lives and what I want is you to know that I'll never let you down."_

_She felt tired like never before when she rested her head against his shoulder and allowed her tears to fall. Her words were absorbed by low sobs as she clung to him while he sank down on the floor._

_"Hold me!"_

_The heat of the fire warmed them as they lay in a tight embrace while the night settled in over another snowy night in Genovia._

***

After the Parliament session Clarisse, Joseph, Mia, Francesca and Motaz gathered in Clarisse's suite to go into a huddle. The atmosphere was quite tense and the mistrust Frankie and Joe shared against Motaz still hung in the air.

"You have to admit that he is not only clever but also quite brave!" Francesca said in obvious astonishment as she leant back in the comfortable armchair in Clarisse's living room. "I hope you know what you're doing by inviting him into the Palace, Your Majesty!"

"It was hardly an invitation from my side!" Clarisse responded firmly and drank from her tea. "I had no choice!"

"Francesca is right. I think it was a dangerous move to tell him he can stay here," Joe argued. He stood at the mantelpiece of the fireplace and avoided Clarisse's eyes. If she interpreted his posture correctly he was boiling with anger. She feared a new argument with him and felt her heart sinking at the mere thought of it.

"Well, Her Majesty didn't have a choice… unless you prefer him to kick you out of this Palace! That way we can at least keep an eye on him!" Sebastian gave Clarisse an encouraging nod and emptied his cup. "Our huge advantage at this moment is the great confusion of our Parliament. They don't trust him and the reluctance of the Archbishop to acknowledge his right to the Throne and to call your marriage to Joseph invalid supports us. Question is how long will we be able to extend the work of the experts?"

Frankie shrugged. "Well, I can only advice you to be careful. If you postpone the decision it's not only us who buys time. He gets time as well and I can assure he'll use it."

"What I don't understand is…" Mia rose from the couch and looked from one to the other. "How could he pass the test?"

"You can always bribe people," Sebastian explained matter-of-factly. "Actually it was what I had expected before… What brings me to another point. I had a little conversation with Lord DeLesepps and he was kind enough to send me some information about the little London Trip Prince Pierre made some weeks ago."

"You talked to my father?"

"Yes, imagine his name was in the phone book." Francesca commented his ironic remark with a raised eyebrow and decided to keep her mouth shut. For the moment at least. Clarisse cleared her throat and pulled nervously at the seam of her skirt. Joseph who had noticed the sudden change of colour on her face noticed it with growing concern. DeLesseps wasn't exactly the man he wanted to see involved in his.

"And what did his Lordship tell you?"

"Seems that Pierre arrived one week before your wedding. According to my sources he had left his parish two weeks before that… and no one knows anything about his whereabouts until he appeared in London with the man, we all know by now, at his side."

"How can you know that?" Clarisse asked worriedly.

"I talked to Pierre's Bishop and he told me Pierre never said he needed some days off or a vacation. He simply left and only called the Bishop's Palais after he had arrived in London."

Joseph slowly crossed the room until he had reached Clarisse chair. He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly.

"And what was his excuse?"

"He had no excuse. He just said he needed more time. That was all. The bishop thought about disciplinary measures but then he remembered Pierre's family and decided otherwise."

Francesca sighed. "Well, that doesn't help much… what did my father know about the other men Pierre met?"

"That is indeed the most interesting thing. All those men once lived here in Genovia and were members or at least linked to a society that was called "Republican Force of Genovia."

"Anti-Monarchists? But…"

"I know, Milady, the group split after law illegalized them and sent some of them into exile but that doesn't mean its former members are not dangerous anymore," Sebastian explained and stole another cookie from the plate.

"But wasn't that society responsible for at least two failed attacks over twenty years ago?" Mia asked in confusion trying to remember the facts her grandmother had tried to drum into her in one of her legendary Princess lessons.

"We couldn't prove they were responsible. Everybody knew it, but they had hidden their traces very well and the people they used as assassins had been some poor souls they could poison with half truths and hate towards those people they called over-privileged and spoiled. In the end, we could only outlaw the group, because they infringed our constitution. Rupert could ban many of the members but not all of them – unfortunately." Clarisse closed her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingertips. "It was a hard time for all of us… we never knew when one would try to attack us." She frowned and Joseph rubbed her shoulder.

"Important is they could never really harm you or Rupert."

"Okay… stop… let me repeat this… so we can assume this group of radicals is involved," Frankie said agitatedly and got up from her chair. "But two things… why faking a King and why involving Pierre? Pierre would never - and I mean what I say - never conspire with people who tried to kill his parents! So please tell me what to think about all this!"

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave Sebastian a challenging look.

"That Milady is something we should find out. The sooner, the better."

***

_The silk under his finger tips was the softest and most expensive fabric he had ever felt. Just like she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever touched. Would he ever find an inch of her that wasn't soft and welcoming? She made him feel alive and wanted._

_His past disappeared behind a curtain of desire and need and yet he felt reluctant. He couldn't have her because she wasn't his. He had no right to lay his hands on another man's woman no matter how much he desired her. No matter how hard she tried to seduce him… no matter how good she was in her attempts to draw him into her bed._

_"Don't…" he managed to say huskily as her hands got busy with his buttons and his belt while her mouth nibbled at his neck, teased his skin there and made him shiver. The smell of alcohol in her breath had been a good reason to convince her to let him go without any hard feelings, but the more she touched him the more it turned into a foggy detail._

_The fire running through his veins straight into his pants betrayed his good intentions. She wasn't his and he was sure she didn't even want to be his. Somehow he felt this had nothing to do with love. It was mere lust and the wish to forget. He knew the feeling and more than once exactly that feeling had been his motivation to look for a willing female bed partner, but this was too much… her scent, her soft skin and her willingness to pleasure him generously._

_"Oh god…" He groaned as her hand found its destination and caressed him with growing firmness._

_"Tell me to stop… just one time and I'll do so… I know you want it. Just like I want it!" Her normally so distinguished voice had become husky and seductive and he made a bet no one who would hear her right now could say she was the same woman that had moved with so much poise in public some hours ago._

_"Yes, I do… I do want you!" His mouth crashed on hers with almost violent force. Their tongues fought a hard duel and he moaned with relief when he felt her teeth biting his lower lip. He tasted his own blood and it turned him on knowing he had found an equal in her. No questions, no answers..._


	11. Chapter 10

**Thanks for your kind reviews and your interest in the story. Have fun with the next part, in which you'll see that Clarisse and Rupert's relationship was a very complicated one and that no one can be safe - even in the Genovian Palace. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 10**

The weather in the English countryside was too awful to describe. A big storm was chasing rain over the fields and gentle hills and ripped the last foliage from the old, honourable trees of his estate. Instinctively, he wished himself to a sunny beach where rain didn't even have a place in people's vocabulary.

Although it wasn't lunchtime yet he had to switch on his desk lamp to read his newspaper, but he didn't have an actual interest in the world's events. He cared for England and its problems. But to be honest with himself, he couldn't change them even as a member of the House of Lords. The other thing he cared about was Genovia and how its Queen dealt with the fact that her so-called dead husband had come back to life. Unfortunately, that was information he couldn't find in any serious newspaper and what the yellow press spouted, was far from reliable. He only knew for sure what he heard from Prime Minister Motaz and it hadn't reassured him about her well-being. He was also quite sure that her new husband couldn't be a big help for her. The man was no politician, he didn't have influence on the right people and he wasn't even worthy of her after his stunts in the past…

He sighed and picked up the phone. It was time to take matters into his hands.

***

_The wind coming onto the beach from the seaside was harsh. Dark clouds were building up on the horizon and promised a heavy storm and lot more rain._

With growing frustration Joe stared out of the window observing some of the footmen who were carrying suitcases and some pieces of furniture into the palace. It made his toe nails curl that the man would be living under the same roof with him and Clarisse. He felt frustrated and angry but he knew he had to adjust to the situation. Why was it so hard for him to cope while she hardly seemed to mind?

This curtain of poise and coolness that surrounded her drove him crazy at times. If she would just scream and shout out her sorrow and her fear for once. The few moments she lived out her frustration had become even more rare and she barely mentioned the matter to him. Business as usual was her mantra these days.

He had thought he knew her but sometimes he just couldn't say what was going on within her. She was an endless enigma to him and sometimes he wondered where the roots of her strength really came from. From a father who had served the country as General of the military forces or an English mother who had worked herself from downstairs to upstairs?  
Maybe he still didn't know enough about her… maybe he would never know her completely. But he felt her love for him in every smile, no matter how rarely they appeared these days and in every touch. And there were a lot of touches these nights…

Hearing the sound of fast moving feet in high heels he turned around. Clarisse and Charlotte were rushing towards him.

"I want you to make sure that he won't have access to the state offices, Charlotte. Talk to Shades and make sure he delegates more men to guard our part of the Palace."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'll do so immediately!"

"Hello Darling!" Clarisse gave Joe a warm smile and kissed his cheek.

"Hello." He returned the kiss and looked at Charlotte. "How's our new companion?"

"He isn't here yet…but his things arrived. As far as we can say he owns a lot of books." She shrugged indifferently.

"Shades is already changing the assignment of the guards. He told me about his plans some minutes ago," Joe explained to Clarisse whose cheeks started reddening. "Oh – well, I just don't want any surprises."

"You can trust Shades and his judgement. He was trained by the best!"

"Of course he was," Clarisse admitted with a smile. She cupped his cheek with her hand and bent forward to give him a kiss. Embarrassed Charlotte turned her head and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, please."

Charlotte rushed away after a quick bow and Clarisse took Joe's hand.

"Come with me. I told Mrs. Kout to arrange lunch for the both of us."

***

_She had hoped a hot bath would calm her nerves and make her less agitated but she had been wrong. Her inner self was still on alert. Since the phone call in the afternoon every fibre of her body had been tense and the panic just wasn't fading no matter how hard she tried to distract herself. She wouldn't feel better until she saw him walking through the door. Unharmed._

Another attack. Rupert's private secretary had told her on the phone that someone had tried to shoot Rupert when he left the limousine to meet the Spanish King Juan Carlos at his Palace in Madrid. Only because of Joseph Ramirez' stout-hearted behaviour when he pushed both Kings aside and caught two of the bullets that had been meant for Rupert and Juan Carlos a tragedy had been avoided. The mere thought of it made her shiver. Rupert unhurt, because someone else had been willing to sacrifice his life for him. She had once asked Joseph what kept him going while he was risking his life for a family that wasn't even his and he had only said it was a question of honour and dedication. Was he regretting his answer and his actions by now?

She had been told his condition was though bad not life threatening…

And what kind of life was she living anyway? Since the man had tried to attack her with the knife she had lived in constant fear of something like that to happen again. Actually, she had always known it had been only a matter of time before she would receive the call she had gotten today.

She gave her face one last look in the mirror and gave up on trying to look better.

Frustrated, she knotted the sash of her robe and left the bathroom to have some of the tea she had asked for.

***

He closed the door behind him and breathed in deeply. He was home – alive. He took his jacket off and leaned against the door thanking God or whoever might be up there for making it home tonight. When he had seen the blood on his grey suit he hadn't been sure that he wasn't the one who had been hurt…but the one who had been shot was Joseph. His new Head of Security. He owed this man so much.

"Rupert?"

He looked up and put on a brave smile. He owed Joseph this moment. For the second time in his life he had feared he would never see her again but here she was. Pale and apparently shaken but she was just as alive as he was. A wave of gratefulness and warmth flooded him.

"Yes, I'm home."

"Thank God!"

She put her cup down, missed the coffee table so that the cup had to hit the floor and tea spread over the floor and the couch. She didn't notice and rushed into his arms. His jacket fell to the floor when his arms flew around her to press her to him. With eyes squeezed shut he inhaled her scent which was mixed with her favourite bath oils and creams.

"Are you alright?" she asked with teary eyes. Finally, relief replaced the fear and she felt warmer again – and secure.

"I'm fine. Nothing happened to me."

"And Joseph?"

"He'll live. He insisted on coming back to Genovia with me after the Spanish doctors were sure that his injuries aren't too bad. We checked him into the Hospital in Pyrus before we came home."

"The man's incredible," she said pulling back to have a look at his face. "I was frightened for you."

"I was scared, too. I called the boys from the plane. They said you were a nervous wreck…"

"I guess they know me too well…," she managed a weak smile and wiped a single tear from her cheek. "I'm getting sentimental here. Sorry."

"No, no… it's alright," he responded caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. "I'm a bit sentimental myself."

While his eyes were resting upon hers his facial expression changed. "When I saw the blood and didn't know whether it was mine or not, I could only think of you…" His fingers tenderly traced down to her neck. "That I might never see you again…does that make any sense to you?"

His hand felt warm on her skin and her breath fastened unwillingly.

"I don't know… you tell me," she answered lowly as he bent forward. Her heart started racing when she realized where this was leading unsure if she could allow it. "I don't know the answer… maybe it doesn't matter." His lips brushed hers. Slowly and tenderly his mouth moved against hers asking carefully for permission to do so.

Inside of her a roller coaster of emotions and memories started running and confused her. It had been a decade since they had kissed… it had been a decade since he had shown any sexual interest in her and now… she had no idea how to cope with it… and with the desire his simple touches awoke in her.

"I'm not sure I want this," she whispered and squirmed against him. She shouldn't fall so easily… not for him. Not after what had happened between them in the past. "It's been so long…" And she had sworn once she never wanted him to touch her again… but God she wanted his touch… she needed it and she needed it now.

"I know…" He kissed her again. With more force this time. His arms wrapped around her middle pressing her to him. Pressing her groin at his, squeezing her bottom. Her mouth opened under the teasing pressure of his tongue and the second their tongues met for the first time in years the dam was broken and their desire overwhelmed them. She moaned into his mouth and ran her hands through his hair and messed it up. Their mouths duelled, played and danced until they had to break the kiss due to lack of oxygen and steadiness.

He tore the robe from her shoulders. With growing greed he kissed and licked his way down her neck to her shoulders which caused new shivers to run up and down her spine. She had existed without being kissed and touched by a man for too long to mind the source of his arousal or his intentions. All that counted was her body being on fire again while her mind got drunk from the feeling of being desired. All self-consciousness she had felt before was lost in a whirlwind of pure lust.

His hand moved possessively over her body minding every curve and every spot he hadn't touched or thought about in years. His demanding squeezes and touches increased her desire to an extend she had almost forgotten about in the lonely nights of the past years. Determined to feel more she pulled his head to her and involved him into another breathtaking kiss that sealed the deal between them.

For a second he pulled back asking silently for permission before he picked her up with a quick movement to carry her into her bedroom…

The walls around him still looked cool and rather unwelcoming. He hadn't expected her to offer him a paradise, but that she would remove every single piece from the Royal Collection from the west wing had astonished him. He had known she was a force to be reckoned with but she had surprised him today. What a woman.

Not one picture or one antique piece of furniture had been left for him. Well, he would buy new ones. He certainly had the privilege and the money to do so now.

Moving in here had only been the first step to get the power that should belong to him. The second part of his plan would take more consideration and attention for detail. It was the heart of his mission and after its accomplishment there would be no one who could keep her and the throne from him.

***

"Strange, isn't it?" Clarisse asked absent-mindedly while she drew small patterns on Joe's naked chest.

"What is strange?"

"How time goes by… everything changes and everything stays the same… in some way."

"Is there a reason for your little philosophical excurse?" he asked in amusement and wrapped his arm more tightly around her.

They were lying in the dark, their legs still entangled under a blanket that was supposed to cover them.

"I was just thinking… wondering if there had ever been a time in my life I felt more frightened…"

"I do remember times when you at least seemed a lot more frightened than you do these days," he said meaningfully.

She bent her head back and made eye contact with him. "I know you think I behave too… how did Mia call it… "cool" in this situation… but what choice do I have? I can't let him get the upper hand… the second I allow him to play with us, we're lost."

"He might be already playing with us and we just aren't yet aware of it!"

A bit discouraged she rested her head on his chest and sighed. "You're the half-empty kind of guy… I forgot."

"I'm not… Let's say a bit more attention to me and to my feelings would be nice. Doesn't it disturb you at all he's living in the same building with us?" He had given up on hiding his frustration with the situation.

"I know it must be hard for you."

She hated the position she was in. She didn't only have to make sure the country didn't feel let down by her; she also had a new husband who suffered from the fact that he couldn't be more of an active help. How much easier things would for them if she hadn't married him… pushing those thoughts aside she touched his cheek with her hand and said: "At least we have him under control here… if he's up to something we'll learn it a lot sooner than we would if he lived God knows where!"

"That's the General's daughter speaking… tactics, tactics, tactics," he responded tenderly and already regretted his complaint. How much harder things must be for her compared to him…

"No, that's the woman who married her Head of Security… I learned a lot from you over the years!"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. Why were they wasting the short time they could really spend alone with the bitter reality? Weren't they supposed to be honeymooners?

"So did I, my love… you know… there's one thing you never consider when we make love."

"Huh?" Interested in the sudden change of subject her head rose from his chest. "You always make me hungry."

"Hungry…" she repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Ahhh… hungry…" A wicked smile crossed her face. "Let's see what I can do about that!"

With an elegance he had never observed on any other woman she swung her leg around his hips and moved herself above him…

"Wait, wait, wait… I'm really hungry… for you and some food." They laughed light-heartedly as he dragged her back into his embrace. Their mouths found each other again and melted in a passionate kiss. Her content sighs into his mouth spoke volumes about her reawakening arousal and he couldn't resist running his hands over her body. Her skin felt like velvet to him and he imagined every single freckle he passed in the darkness of the room.

"You're not quite fair here," he complained huskily when she guided his hand over her breasts and showed him how to treat her soft flesh.

"You decided to skip dinner," she told him as he rolled her on her back. She hissed sharply when his lips played and teased her breast that wasn't tended to by his hand.

"Because for tea you forced those marvellous cookies into me."

Her legs spread without any encouragement from his side and after some seductive movements against his thighs wrapped around him.

"Since when do you complain about treats?" she asked mischievously arching her back to get closer to him. With a winning grin she noticed the husky groan that escaped his throat and pulled him down for another heated kiss.

"Just one round, my Queen…. After that I'll go and get my well-deserved dessert!"

***

_The room was quite dark and a ray of sunlight fell through the closed curtains. The doctors had told her their patient still needed rest but she didn't want to wait until his wounds were healed and the injuries faded. She needed to see him with her own eyes before the memory of the horrible attack vanished under the fog of her daily life. She needed him to know she cared for him._

"Joseph?" Her voice was almost a whisper when she addressed him. Trying to move as inaudibly as possible she stepped next to his bedside. His eyes opened and she gave him a warm smile.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, Your Majesty."

"Liar. Your doctors told me you were lucky."

"So I have every reason to be fine."

She shook her head in amusement. He was really as stubborn as Rupert had told her. Taking his hand into hers she squeezed it gently.

"I don't know how to thank you for saving Rupert's life… for bringing my husband home to me."

"That was my job."

"You know you've done far more than your job and I'll always be grateful for that."

His hand felt so warm in hers. He had gentle hands that gave nothing away about the hard times he had survived. He hardly mentioned his years in the Spanish army but she knew from his personal records and what had Rupert had told her how difficult life had been for him. Those hands had seen a lot more blood than he had lost the day before.

_But when someone came in and saw her holding his hand people would only start gossiping. As gently as possible she placed his hand on the covers again._

Lionel jumped backwards quickly and hid behind one of the mimosa bushes. He held his breath while Mia and Nicholas passed him arm in arm. Not that they would have noticed him as busy they were with all the whispering and kissing they were occupied with…

Actually, the Palace was quite an active place this night. He had seen a black limousine at the front gate but couldn't recognize the small flag on it. From the park he could see the lights in the kitchen being switched on and off. He would have to be careful to get into the Palace unseen but he had to show something to his boss.

When he was sure that Mia and Nicholas wouldn't see or hear him he left his hiding place and rushed towards the Palace.

***

Joe returned from his nightly visit to the kitchen with a plate filled with cookies and two glasses of milk.

"Voila… our snack!" he announced and then he realized she had left the bed in his absence. "Spoilsport."

"I'm here." She said and he turned his head. She leaned against the window frame and looked outside into the garden.

"You're out of bed and you're dressed. That's against the rules."

"The same goes for you."

He put the cookies and the glasses on her dressing table and joined her. His arms wrapped around her middle and he leaned his head on her shoulder.

"Anything special we search for?"

"I've seen Mia and Nicholas in the garden a few minutes ago."

"At this hour? She shouldn't be outside!" he said already turning on his heels.

"Stay…" She grabbed his hands and placed them on her belly again. "She isn't alone… and they can't be far away."

"Why is she meeting him secretly at night?"

"Because she doesn't know how to handle it otherwise…"

"Well, Andrew is out of the picture… they have no reason to hide."

"Do you think she sleeps with him?"

He held his breath and thought for a moment. He had seen the tension between Mia and Nicholas before Clarisse had noticed it and he had warned her about it. But whether Mia had given into her feelings he couldn't say.

"I don't know… maybe that is something her Grandmother should ask her in a heart-to-heart."

She rubbed his hands. When she felt his wedding ring under her fingertip she moved along its form and admitted shyly: "It wasn't quite fair to force her to marry Andrew to ensure the Kingdom would remain in our family. It was selfish from my side."

"But she understood and she tried her best… and she found the best solution for all of us, don't you think so?" He kissed her cheek and she cuddled deeper into his embrace.

"She did… and still. I never really asked her what really happened the night at the lake because I feared her answer."

"Well, she was quite hurt when she thought Nicholas had set her up."

"Yes, I felt so low that day… what if she had lost her innocence to someone who wasn't worthy of her? Who only played her to ruin her reputation? Or even worse if she had fallen for someone I didn't want her to marry and they could only meet in secret… I really was about to turn her into a second Clarisse Renaldi while she just wanted to be… Mia. I was foolish."

Feeling the need to ease her worries he said in an amused voice: "Well, I'm quite sure they behaved that night. And I like the idea of a second Clarisse very much, although I might add they could be too much to handle for one man!"

He kissed her head and added: "Besides, you should be aware of the fact that young women these days don't wait for the wedding night to consummate their relationships."

"They don't?" she asked half-amused.

"No."

She thought for a moment and asked curiously: "Would it disturb you? Seriously, I mean if we were younger and this was my first marriage… would it bother you if you hadn't been the first one?"

She turned in his embrace to face him.

"I don't know," he admitted, truly taken aback. "Maybe, I would… maybe, I would always be jealous of every other man who had dared to touch you…" He kissed her gently and added in bewilderment: "You can ask questions… did someone poison your food tonight?"

"No, I was just curious."

She rested her forehead against his chin and sneaked her arms around his neck.

"Alright… so what about some cookies now?"

***

Charlotte yawned unceremoniously and stretched. It had been a long day and she felt tired. But she loved the atmosphere of the kitchen at night and it was her favourite place to be after work. It was fun to see who sneaked into the kitchen to get a midnight snack. She had learned about one or two secret romances that way.

She rose from her chair, took the last cookies out of the box and closed it again. A grin crossed her face when she imagined the chef's angry face in the morning and the additional swear words.

She switched off the lights and took a big bite of her favourite hazelnut cookie before she went upstairs slowly. The moon threw plenty of light into the large hallway and so she didn't make use of the switch. She paced down the hallway but stopped suddenly when she heard the sound of steps behind her. She waited. Her heartbeat increased and she held her breath but the sound vanished. Maybe, it had never been there. She moved again but aside from her own low steps and the soft rustling of her silk robe she couldn't hear a thing. Feeling better she breathed in deeply and called on herself for being scared like this for nothing.  
Nevertheless, she focused on the door at the end of the hallway and fastened her pace. She hated it to feel like a fool but she couldn't help herself.

She reached the grand-sized ball room with the double staircase. This time she switched on the lights before she entered the room.

The first thing she noticed was the strange red liquid on the marble floor, which she refused to believe was blood. She looked up and saw several small red splatters on the wall… the ceiling… everywhere…

The body of a man in a sea of blood at the bottom of the stairs. Steps again. She frantically whirled around… or was the room spinning around her? Her breath came out flatly and she realized that she was about to faint.

The cookies she had held in her hand dropped on the floor and soaked with the blood. The sound of steps behind her. Before her body had hit the floor she had already lost consciousness.

***

"I'll talk to the doctors and make sure you'll have everything you need to recover soon." She lowered her eyes and added lowly: "I can understand if you preferred to leave our staff. Although it would hurt us to see you leaving."

"I would like to stay… unless they say I'll remain an invalid after two shots into my shoulder…"

"Of course you can stay…We aren't finished needing you… and your advice."

"I'll stay… where else should I go? But I have one request, Ma'am… if it isn't too adolescent for me to ask for one…"

"Just say it."

"One dance with you…"

Another smile broadened on her face and reached her eyes. "I think I can grant you more than just one after what you did for me and the King. It's settled, Joseph. We'll dance."

***

The men taking a walk along the shore weren't disturbed by that. The solitude of the cold beach was the best place to discuss their business.

"I asked you a simple question, DeLesseps," Rupert told the man next to him eyeing him suspiciously. He had never really liked him, but he had learned to tolerate him for Clarisse's sake.

"A question I refuse to answer, Your Majesty."

"And why?"

"Because it would compromise your wife."

"I'm very much aware of what was going on between Clarisse and you before we got married. Not need to beat around the bush."

"So, why am I here? Why a meeting in this lonely and –excuse me- damn cold place?"

"Because I don't want Clarisse to know anything about this conversation. Since our maids are more loyal to her than they are to me I was afraid she could learn something about our meeting."

"Well, there's nothing to discuss."

"So, I assume you won't accept my offer and return to England. A pity your daughter likes Genovia… she could need some distraction."

"Let me take care of my daughter. London is her home and she'll be fine."

"And Clarisse? I thought you love her. Becoming my foreign secretary would offer you a lot of opportunities."

DeLesseps sighed and shook his head. "She doesn't want that. For a reason I don't understand she is still committed to you and her position. Don't ask me why."

"Maybe you just weren't persuasive enough."

"Believe me, if I was under the impression I could win this, I would do everything I could to sweep her off her feet and bring her out of this country. But unlike you Clarisse is a very steady and loyal person."

Both men stopped walking and faced one another.

"Don't tell me you didn't even try… I know you did, because I know you…she dumped you again," he added in astonishment. "Believe it or not, I want what's best for Clarisse. I thought a rekindled relationship with you could make her happy."

"Is that so? Why did you ever lay eyes on her in the first place? Sooner or later I would have convinced her father that it was better for her to marry me instead of a well-known playboy. No matter what his position in the country is."

"Don't lash your frustration out on me, Henry. You know the General wanted his own bloodline in the Genovian Royal Family and it didn't matter to him if he had to sell his own child to accomplish that. I did him a favour you barely could have fulfilled... but a few days ago I gave you a chance and you screwed it up. Don't expect to hear from me again."

Rupert turned to leave but Henry called him back.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"It isn't up to you to decide what Clarisse wants or when… if she ever knocks at my door I won't turn my back on her."

***


	12. Chapter 11

**Thank you for your great comments! Thanks for reading and taking your time to write a comment. I appreciate your interest and will do my best to keep your guessing about what is going on ;-)) **

**Chapter 11**

She hadn't worn black in a long, long time but today it seemed appropriate. She had liked this man and she had entrusted him with some of her deepest and darkest secrets. In all this time he had never disappointed her and she sincerely hoped she had never disappointed him even when she had been breaking the rules. His kind words had often been a source of solace and understanding even when she couldn't understand herself. The world, her world had become an emptier place without him.

What made everything worse was that his life had been taken in her home. The heart of Genovia had turned into a place of murder and betrayal.

As long as he could Joseph had refused to let her see the mess in the ballroom but eventually she had insisted on visiting the scene of the crime and been shocked. Most of the blood had been cleaned up but there was still enough to remind her about everything.  
From the man who had been supervising the investigations she had learned that the person who committed the crime had used incredible violence to kill his victim. The Inspector had even gone so far to say that blind hatred was the motivation behind the crime but she had no idea who could feel like this about Louis DeGilles, the Archbishop of Genovia.

"A pity he had to die." The last voice she wanted to hear on this earth reached her from the other end of the room. She didn't bother to face him immediately. She wasn't in the mood to talk to him. Not now and not ever.

"He was very devoted to our family."

Reluctantly she turned and faced him. He looked quite comfortable in his blue shirt and black pants. The first time she saw him without uniform - a sight that really disturbed her because he seemed so unworthy to wear it.

"He was a good friend," she stated preparing to leave, feeling quite awkward in his presence.

"And a brilliant schemer. He was of great help to you in the last days. I wonder what will happen now that he's gone." The way he talked to her gave her an unpleasant thrill. His tone even scared her.

"What do you mean?"

"My sources tell me Armand Rouquette will be appointed as new Archbishop… quite a character. Some say he's a member of the Opus Dei… a powerful man. And on his way to become Cardinal. I wonder what he'll say to your marriage and your claim to the throne."

He closed the distance between them and although tempted to back off she remained where she was.

"He won't say anything! Nobody will dare to call my marriage to Joseph invalid!"

"But it already is… made in heaven or not. I bet you already regret you've gone public with your relationship instead of screwing him behind the scene!"

"You really enjoy this, do you?" Her blue eyes held his gaze, challenged him and finally forced him to blink.

"I certainly don't enjoy living in a house where a man is killed by someone who enjoyed to beat a hole into his head, but I can't deny it offers me an advantage I didn't dream off."

"I bet it does."

"The sooner you admit your marriage isn't valid the better." He lifted his head and touched her upper arm with the back of his hand. It went up and down slowly while his eyes raked over her body in admiration. Her eyes followed his hands and she couldn't help but feeling claustrophobic. She jerked away, away from his touch.

"I'm sure we'll get used to each other again. Remember we used to have a lot of fun."

"Grandma!" Mia's voice echoed from up the staircase. "Are you alright?"

"She is… we were just having a little chat. Why don't you join us?" He smiled at Mia who came downstairs with fast steps. Maurice, the proud French poodle, followed her.  
To Clarisse's big surprise the dog sat down next to Rupert who started petting his head.

"Good boy."

"You wanted to talk to me, Grandma," Mia placed herself between Clarisse and her former conversation partner.

"Maurice, come here!" Clarisse ordered sharply and Maurice trotted obediently towards her. "Yes, Honey. Why don't we leave this unpleasant place and have some tea?"

***

_Her hands ran nervously over the shiny dark fabric of her new dress. It was certainly the most alluring and sensual gown she had ever worn but Rupert had insisted on giving it to her as a present. It was strapless and exposed most her freckled back. Additionally, a line of small diamonds graced the seam over her breasts. As self-conscious as she was while looking at herself she couldn't deny a certain feeling of arousal as her eyes absorbed her sight._

His hands were sweating when he opened the door and sneaked into the room. He had done this before and it had worked out but who knew how often he would be lucky. It had been pure coincidence that he had found the evidence and had brought it into the palace but he couldn't deliver it. He had seen all the blood in the ballroom when he escaped and he had seen when she fainted. All he could do had been to pull her out of the blood and running away so no one would catch him.

And now he tried to find out more. Due to the clouded sky outside he couldn't see enough and switched on the desk lamp. Carefully he pulled out the small key he had seen her hiding in the library two days before and put it into the lock. The desk was quite old and the lock wasn't easy to open. He bit his lips when he heard a strange sound coming out of the drawer.

"Damn, it," he cursed pressedly and turned the key. "Open!" he hissed between his teeth.

"I really wish you hadn't done this, Lionel." He heard the regret in Francesca's voice but what bothered him more was the feeling of the muzzle of a gun pressed against his left temple.

***

_"What's wrong?" he asked when he joined her in the corner by the window. The party guests had spread across the room and chit-chatted around. Rupert had made sure there was enough champagne to drown them all in it and a few guests had already become tipsy enough to laugh and behave without control._

Clarisse and Mia were sitting in Clarisse's suite having some tea. She hadn't heard everything of the conversation her grandmother and the man who claimed to be her grandfather had but she could feel the awkwardness between them.

"Grandma?" Mia asked carefully while she played with her tea spoon.

"Yes, dear?"

"I know I probably shouldn't ask but… how were things between you and Grandpa before he died? I mean… you said it was an arranged marriage and you were fond of him but…" she shrugged as her voice trailed off.

An absent-minded smile appeared on Clarisse's face. "We had a good life together… we had our problems. Some of them where quite difficult but we always came around and made up. When you live with someone for 40 years without killing each other something must have been right."

Actually, Mia had hoped for a less vague answer but her grandmother was a private person. No chance to get any more details… not that she wanted details. But there were things she simply needed to know. She observed her grandmother closely while she poured some tea into her cup.

"But he treated you well, right? I mean he never tried to hurt you…"

Stunned Clarisse dropped the teapot on the table.

"Oh no… he was a wonderful man. Gentle, kind… sometimes a bit crazy… unbalanced…yes. But he never hurt me on purpose. How can you think something like this?"

"Because when I saw you and him downstairs earlier…" Clarisse shook her head and interrupted her granddaughter firmly. "Oh Mia! That man isn't your grandfather! He's an impostor, nothing more and we'll prove it soon!"

"But… listen I'm not stupid. What if Parliament agrees to make him King again? What will happen to you and Joe? You'll be married to that man!" She started to cry. Unchecked tears ran over her cheeks and overwhelmed Clarisse bent over to hug Mia.

"My dear child, Joseph and I will be fine! You don't have to worry about us. No one will harm us." She rubbed Mia's back and was surprised how confident and strong her voice sounded even though she didn't feel confident and strong at all. Each and every thought Mia had just voiced had crossed her mind over and over until she was sure she was going insane.

"I don't want you to worry about us." Clarisse pulled back and wiped tears of Mia's face. Handing her a small napkin from the table she said: "Actually, that was why I asked you to have tea with me. I have an idea and I hope you'll like it!"

Mia blew her nose and nodded slowly.

"You know… I've been thinking about you and Nicholas for some time now. I know you had some kind of a rocky start and maybe a little vacation would be good for the two of you… I'm sure he hasn't seen San Francisco yet!"

Mia's jaw dropped. "You want to send me away?"

"No… I just want you to have a good time with him. You have to get to know each other! Try to find out if it's really serious between you. Your mother and Patrick live there as well. He could get to know your family, where you came from!"

"I won't leave you, Grandma!"

"Mia, please… there's nothing you can do here and after what happened to the Archbishop I would feel better if as few people as absolutely necessary stay here. Especially you."

"But you stay here as well. And you're our Head of State! If someone is in danger then it's you!"

"I'm not in danger… I'm no threat. I'm not royal by blood… what can they do to me? And I have a lot of people who will protect me! But you are their heir. If someone's life is threatened it's yours. I've talked a lot about this subject with Joseph and Sebastian and both agree with me. You're the last Renaldi who can rule, you're the future of this country and I have to ensure you're safe!"

Mia made an unhappy face. She knew her grandmother was right. She always was right but at the same time she hated to leave her grandmother alone. Sure she had Joseph but what if something happened to him as well? Her uncle Pierre seemed to be totally estranged from his mother and her own father was dead.

"I'm not so sure your idea is great… you don't even have Charlotte around!"

"Oh tush… Charlotte will be back as soon she feels better! She's just spends some time at her parents' house until she has recovered from the shock. And Mia…"

"Yes?"

Clarisse took Mia's chin and made her look at her. When she spoke her eyes were filled with tenderness and rising tears.

"You're my only grandchild. I've already lost your father and I know I wouldn't survive to lose you."

"Oh Grandma!" Overwhelmed by emotion Mia embraced her Grandmother and cried again.

"Just tell me you obey your Grandmother for once!" Clarisse said trying to lighten the mood.

"If that's what you truly want I will. I love you, Grandma!"

"I love you too, my dear!"

Sebastian felt a headache rising as he hung up the phone. The news he had received were quite disturbing. To deliver them would be much harder and keeping them under the rug downright impossible.

But before he could tell the Queen he had to talk to Joseph.

***

"You frightened me," Lionel said in a shaking voice as he sank into the chair in front of Francesca's desk.

"I don't like it when someone sneaks into my study and searches my desk! What were you thinking?"

She placed the gun on her desk and stared at him in deep annoyance.

"Joe told me to keep an eye on you!"

She snorted and gave him a look. "He was just happy to get rid off you and I'm beginning to understand why! You're a nosy little bastard!"

Lionel's ears turned red and he lowered his head.

"So…"

"So what?"

"What did you hope to find? The evidence for my involvement in this faked-King-charade?"

"I don't know… I just sensed something isn't right… this house. You… since when do have Professors for History and Political Science guns in their houses?"

"I have my reasons… reasons you don't have to know."

Anything but content with her answer he rose from the chair and pulled something out of the pockets of his trousers.

"What about this?" He threw something that had the look of a credit card onto her desk. When she recognized it she rubbed her forehead and sighed.

"You work for the MI6 and you never told anyone."

"I don't work for the MI6. Not anymore."

"But you got a lot of information from them, right?"

"Yes, I did, until Motaz told my father to investigate. Since then my sources seemed to have dried out," she explained a bit impatiently. "And now it's my turn… what did you tell Joe?"

"I told him about you… what I found and he was surprised."

"I bet he was… And when did you tell him that?"

"The night the Archbishop died. I met Joe in the Palace."

"You were there?" Frankie asked in astonishment and sank down into her chair. "Did you see anything?"

"No… first I talked to Joe in his office and showed him your license. Then I went back and when I was close to ballroom I suddenly heard someone scream. A man. I heard steps and hid in a broom closet. After some time I came out and saw Charlotte passing. I followed her and wanted to warn her but she fainted when she saw all the blood."

"And what did you do then?"

"I left the Palace… but I before I caused the alarm to make sure both would be found."

She wrinkled her forehead and thought for awhile. "Did anyone see you and Joe?"

"No, we met a time when the guards wouldn't disturb us… they check the Palace once every hour and always start at the same time and the same part of the palace."

"So whoever killed the bishop must haven known about the guards' schedule."

"Yes, very likely, Ma'am."

For a moment Francesca said nothing and then she leaned forward and said in an almost tender way: "You were lucky, do you know that? If the killer had seen you, you could easily be dead as well."

"I know."

"Okay, Lionel." Frankie pushed herself out of her chair and walked around her desk. With crossed arms she leaned against it and continued: "From now you'll have to trust me. No sneaking around, no searching of my personal belongings. I want to help the Queen just as much as you but if you work against me it won't work. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Milady."

"I have a task for you… if you want to help me I would appreciate it but if not I'll understand."

"And what task is it?"

"I want you to meet someone tonight to fetch something for me."

***

Joe stood at the window in Motaz' office and looked into the rain. He had listened to the Prime Minister's words and understood them.

"I'm sorry, but that's the reality we have to face, Joe."

Joe turned to Sebastian. His posture and his eyes were as calm as always. Even if he was nervous or scared no one would be able to see it.

"How much time do I have? I need time to tell Clarisse."

"Maybe until tomorrow… maybe tonight. I'll try again to talk to the Inspector but I don't have much hope. Unfortunately, in Genovia a Royal title doesn't offer you immunity. Not when you're accused of a capital crime," Sebastian sighed and rose from his chair. "You know my advice. You have diplomatic immunity in other countries. Go there until we found out who set you up."

"Where I come from escape is the same as a confession."

"That's your risk."

"I'm her husband. I can't run away and leave her to pick up the pieces."

"I feared you would say that, but imagine what will happen when you are sent to prison or, worse, banned from Genovia? Her reputation and yours will be shattered and Parliament won't hesitate to declare your marriage invalid… and I won't be able to stop them."

"I know…" Joe drew a deep breath. "And yet… I won't run away and look like a coward."

"We all know you're no coward. The Genovians respect you, Joe. After all, you saved the Kings life more than once."

"And I'm accused of having killed the Archbishop. It won't be pleasant to find out what counts more in the end!"

"I'll use all my power to get you out of this, Joe," the Prime Minister declared firmly. "All the police has found is circumstantial evidence… some dark clothes with blood in a Palace trash bin and a knife with your initials on it can't be enough proof to lock you up and throw the key away."

"It seems enough for the police." Joe crossed the room and stretched his hand out. "I'm glad you talked to me first."

Sebastian took Joe's hand in both hands and held it for a few moments.

"I thought I owe you this. I wish I could do more for you."

"It's alright."

"Please tell Her Majesty I'll call her tomorrow morning."

The black colour of her suit had a bad influence on her mood. She was glad Mia had left her suite some time ago, because she simply didn't want her granddaughter to see her losing her composure. She only allowed herself to cry in front of Joseph and it had taken her some time to let herself go with him.

Her fingers ran tenderly over the framed picture that showed her youngest son Philippe as a little boy. Rupert had taken it in the park shortly after his sixth birthday… he smiled so brightly, so free of every burden while he played in the sun.

She put the photo on the desk and wiped her tears away with both hands. She hadn't cried for Philippe in years. Actually she thought the worst time of grieving was over, but her conversation with Mia earlier had brought everything back to the surface.

What offered her solace was that Mia had agreed to leave Genovia until this Palace was a safe place again.

With her handkerchief she dried her face and did her best to collect her thoughts. Joseph had called to tell her he would be home soon and she wanted to look fresh for him. He wouldn't mind her tears but she wanted to offer him something less dramatic in these dark days.

A few minutes later, just after she had started to read some dispatches, she heard the French doors open and looked up.

"Hello," she greeted her husband with a smile and took her glasses off.

"Hello, Darling." He crossed the distance and returned her greetings with a loving kiss.

"Right on time for dinner," she said smiling widely after they had broken apart.

"I'm famous for my perfect timing." She noticed a shadow crossing his face and narrowed her eyebrows. She sensed that something was wrong. He seemed tense, even nervous and he avoided her eyes.

"Did something happen?"

He shook his head and traced her chin with his thumb.

"I met Mia in the hallway… she told me she had already packed."

"Yes, they'll fly to San Francisco tonight. The last thing I want is to risk her changing her mind and eventually stay."

"True." His expression became absent-minded again and she definitely knew then that he was hiding something from her.

"Are you sure you feel alright?"

"Yes. What about dinner?"

***

Only Clarisse had detached herself from the party guests and preferred to stay away. She wasn't in the mood to drink and looked into the Palace garden where the new roses she had chosen a few months ago grew.

"Nothing…" She smiled at him and shrugged without taking her eyes from the window. "That means… I think Lord Chandler just vomited into my new flowerbed. My poor roses."

Rupert laughed and leaned over to kiss her. To his surprise she pulled away with blushed cheeks. "What?"

"Someone could see us!"

"They are too busy with the champagne and each other. They won't even notice us!"

He touched her cheek with his thumb and caressed it.

"I'm not so sure about that." She pointed with her head to the group standing around the little bar. "Some of them looked at me as if they had never seen me before!"

"Because you're the most beautiful Queen Genovia has ever had!"

"Because they noticed I look like someone who…" she paused, unable to say out loud what had just crossed her mind. Rupert raised his eyebrows in curiosity and when he looked at her inflamed face he started to smile…

"You think it's that obvious? You think they just think about how well-loved you look? By the way you do!"

"Oh tush! Keep your mouth shut!"

She brushed an invisible strand behind her ear and turned her face away. He really loved to embarrass her!

"Don't look away!" he laughed and tried to get a hold of her hand. "Come here." Enjoying her uneasiness he trapped her at the window and started to attack her neck with tender bites.

"Rupert! Stop it!"

"Shhh… so far they don't care about us…." He silenced her with a passionate kiss she couldn't resist to respond to. Shortly thereafter, he licked her lower lip and pressed his evident arousal against her.

"You know there are other several words to describe the state you are in… screwed senseless or simply well-loved." He mumbled the words at her lips making her gasp.

"Don't you think a King should watch his mouth?"

"Not in the privacy of his windows… besides the only person who can see us from the outside is still sick… so just tell me how you really feel."

His physical closeness didn't give her much space to think… all she could think of was last night and how to repeat every touch and kiss… and thrust. He nuzzled her neck again, found the soft spot under her ear and did everything he could to drive her mad with desire. His fingers performed a dance on her naked back and slipped into her dress and down her spine. She arched her back as the sweet torture lit tiny flames in her abdomen. An uncontrolled moan escaped her throat and he quickly covered her mouth with his and let his tongue dance with hers.

When they broke free both were panting heavily.

"Tell me what you want," he encouraged her huskily. "Say it…" He smiled against her lips and flicked his tongue over them once again.

"Right now I feel anything but well-loved!" she admitted choked and his smile broadened.

"That's my girl…"

"A Queen shouldn't say such things," she mumbled against his chin.

"She should say it only if she means it!" he responded and moved his hands from her back to her front. Her breasts were already aching as his fingertips ran over the silk to stimulate her nipples.

"Take me upstairs… to our bed…" she whispered, by now unable to care about her guests. The erotic tingling had rushed through her body all day, now the desire was coming over her like a storm.

"To do what?" he continued to tease.

"Anything you want to."

***

Her body had been tense since she had woken up this morning. Rupert had already left her bed again but there had been a bouquet of red roses on the pillow next to her, the dress and a message from him. To celebrate his survival Rupert had arranged a small dinner party for close friends tonight and he wanted her to wear the dress for him.

It assured her that his attitude from last night hadn't been a fluke… he really wanted her back. He had made love to her like never before… every time she closed her eyes her mind flashed back to the night they had shared… the way he had touched, kissed and talked to her. She had craved his touch and kisses like never before…

After living chaste for the last ten years the emotions had simply overwhelmed her and greedily demanded satisfaction… it still did. Her body reacted involuntarily to every touch, be it her own or someone else's and a tickling warmth running through her veins at the mere thought of what he had done to pleasure her. It had been incredibly hard to allow her maids to help her with her dress and her make up. How she would love to enjoy those feelings… to give into the wish to touch herself… to touch him.

She sighed as she checked her reflection in the mirror again. She wasn't pleased with the way she looked… she shouldn't look that happy one day after another attack on her husband. Rupert wanted to celebrate his life she knew that, but the rational part of her mind wasn't convinced he was choosing the right way to show their strength. After all, they had to thank Joseph on their knees for Rupert being alive. If it weren't for him her husband would be dead. She swallowed. Joseph and his selfless sacrifice had allowed Rupert to live… and to find his way back to her. Joseph. The thought of him brought a smile on her face.

"Hello Gorgeous…" She blushed as she heard his voice and refused the temptation to look at him. She knew he stood in the doorway and she sensed his eyes on her which caused to run up and down her spine.

"Hello," she greeted him rather shyly and cleared her throat.

"You look stunning," he said as he approached her. He had already changed into his tux and she had to admit his appearance was impeccable. He smiled at her reflection as he placed himself behind her and added proudly: "When I saw this dress in Paris last week I knew it was meant for you. It's perfect. You're perfect."

He traced the line of her shoulders with his index finger and bent down to place soft kisses on her neck.

"Don't." She squirmed a bit and the colour in her cheeks increased. She wasn't used to this… she was used to the polite Rupert, the Rupert who used to be her friend after they had agreed their marriage lacked what it needed to be a real one. But after last night they were had been swimming in unknown waters and it frightened her to some extend.

"Shhh…. Close your eyes," he ordered gently and she obeyed after hesitating for a moment. When the necklace came in contact with her skin she shivered. It felt a bit cold and the contrast to his warm hands caused even more physical confusion.

"Now open them again," he whispered into her ear. With trembling fingers she traced the necklace and opened her eyes. "Oh Rupert, this is breathtaking."

"25 diamonds," he said and wrapped his arms around her. "In four weeks we'll celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary…"

"We do?" she asked bewildered while her fingers still traced on the exquisite gift he had just given her.

"Yes. Do you like it?" His breath tickled her ear and she closed her eyes for a moment.

"It's beautiful… but why?"

"Why not? You deserve every present that underlines your beauty!"

"You bought it in Paris too?"

"Yes. They are the same diamonds as in your dress," he explained and traced his index finger over the jewels on her dress.

"Paris…." She smiled unhappily and he stopped and looked up.

"It's over Clarisse… it has been for some time now."

"Really?" she asked doubtfully and realized for the first time she was trembling all over. His hands went gently up and down her naked arms.

"I swear. Last night when I came home I realized how stupid I was to turn away from you…" His lips brushed her cheek and her ear lobe. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," she managed to say but her voice was barely audible.

***


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The office chair was slowly spinning. The low sound of its movement filled the otherwise dark and silent room. He picked up the file that was lying next to the man on the floor and sneaked out to the door. He peeked into the lonely hallway making sure no one was there and rushed out of the building.

***

There had been times in her life when she had wondered if she would ever experience real happiness. She had tried with Henry, she had tried with Rupert and she had tried hard but it hadn't been meant for them. She hadn't been meant for him and vice versa. Over the years she had accepted that she didn't have to understand life, she just had to live it without falling apart in the process. A hard but simple lesson and it had helped her to survive her youngest son's useless death.

He was the one reason why the rule wasn't working. He had entered her life and enriched it in a way that had turned her life upside down. With him she had been close to lose herself. She had been close to break her wedding vows and she had resisted him, which had made her want him more than life itself.

For over a decade they had danced on the edge until there had been no turning back. And until tonight they had been falling without thinking about the consequences. Now the time of hitting the ground had come despite her desperate attempt to ignore it. Things were too good. Too wonderful. Too breathtaking.

The happiness and the love he had brought into her life were painful and sweet. He completed her, he drove her crazy and he earthed her when she was close to flying away.

It had been a long journey filled with ups and downs and a lot of heartache for both of them, especially when she suddenly had struggled with her decision to become his wife. She had almost lost him, had got him back and now she was losing him again. This time she couldn't find it… she was losing it.

He was kissing the tears from her cheeks while he made love to her. She clung to him as if her life depended on it. Her nails digging into the skin of his back must hurt him but at the same time it seemed to turn him on. She pressed the length of her body against his, enjoying the sensations he gave her. For the last time.

She felt him holding back, refusing to fasten his pace to make sure they could climb the hill together.

She grabbed his head, guided him to her mouth to kiss him forcefully. He groaned into her mouth, his tongue duelling with hers tasting her time and again....

***

"I'm sorry," she sniffed against his bare chest and wiped her tears away. "I know I shouldn't cry like this… but…"

"It's alright." He kissed her head and rocked her gently in his arms.

"It's not alright… you haven't killed anyone. It's a scheme of him to tear us apart."

"But he won't succeed. No one can tear us apart. Not in our hearts." He took her hand and kissed the palm of it. "Besides they can't prove anything. They barely have any clues. I'm sure our lawyers can bail me out before I'm even in!" He sounded reasonable but deep inside he wasn't sure of his own words. But as long as it made her feel better every lie would do.

"That's all my fault," she said tonelessly ignoring his attempt to ease her worries. "I should talk to the police. They won't call me a liar!"

"If you do that he can accuse you of abusing your position as Head of the State. Besides, what will you tell them?"

"I'll tell them that we were awake and that you didn't leave the bedroom that night!"

"Clarisse… I don't want you to make any kind of statement on this matter! Don't play into his hands because you want to protect me. You can't. The press will eat you alive if you try to interfere with a police investigation.

She swallowed and turned on her back. She stared at the ceiling recalling his last words and had to swallow another bout of tears. He was right but the press would eat them anyhow. The husband of the Queen arrested for murder… if only she hadn't married him… and if only she didn't have to hide the truth about Rupert.

"I love you, Joseph," she declared in a weak voice and turned her face to him. "So very much."

He rolled onto his side, ending up with his face close to hers with the tips of their noses almost touching.

"I love to you too, Clarisse."

"And if you do what Sebastian told you… just until…" He stopped her with a kiss. He shook his head after they had broken apart and traced the line of her chin with his thumb.

"No escape and no hiding. Never again."

***

"That's the file he told you to get out of the safe?"

In utter disbelief Frankie turned page after page.

"Yes, Ma'am. Then he died." Lionel swallowed trying to forget about the awful minutes he had to spend in the office. Frankie looked up to the young man and felt sorry for him. He wasn't used to this kind of work. He was too young to see people dying and he was too young to accept death as a part of life. He should be enthusiastic about life without having to question it. Maybe she would have enough time to talk about this to him later. Now the file was important. The file and the information it hid.

"But I don't understand this… that's hardly the file of man who suffered from cardiac problems…" She shook her head and checked the name of the file again. It was simply sampled with "No. 1". "Did you read it?" she asked Lionel.

"No." He shook his head.

"Good. And I'm asking you here and now not to do so. Not ever."

Lost in her thoughts she placed the file on her desk and went to the window with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Are you sure Stephan was dead when you left the office?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I checked his pulse."

"Did you leave any traces? Fingerprints… anything?"

"I wore gloves and I made sure I didn't step into the blood."

"A lot of people seem to die these days," she remarked sadly and tightened her arms.  
"I think it's safer if we keep a low profile from now on."

"Did you know the man well?" Lionel asked curiously.

"Since I was a little girl. He lived in our neighbourhood… we were friends but one day I left Genovia and he stayed. We haven't even met after I came back. I just asked him a favour and the next thing I hear he's lying on his office floor – dead."

She leaned against the window frame obviously trying not to lose composure. Lionel still trembling all over his body felt like watching something he wasn't supposed to and left the room quietly.

***

I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I don't know what else to do… I can't undermine our laws."

Clarisse saw Sebastian was sorry and she knew she had no other choice but to accept that nothing and no one had the power to spare Joseph the humiliation of being arrested. But really accepting it was harder than she had imagined. It seemed so unfair that he had to carry the burden. He who had sacrificed so much to protect her, Rupert and the monarchy.

The Prime Minister shifted from one foot to the other in front of her desk, clenching his hands nervously. He felt for the Queen and for Joseph. They shouldn't have to deal with this but they were caught and soon he would have to make a decision. He was a loyal person but he sensed they were reaching a point where he had to decide whom he would support. Not just Joseph's reputation but also his own political future depended on the way he handled this affair.

"I know… and I'm grateful for everything you have done for us." She gave him a smile and rose from her chair.

_"Your Highness, where have you been between midnight and 1 am the day His Excellency was killed?"_  
"Unfortunately I can't erase the evidence."

"I was asleep."

"Do you have a witness for that?"

"Only Her Majesty… and she was asleep as well."

"Which must be faked," Clarisse pointed out. "There's no way the Archbishop would have made a motion to Rome to declare my marriage invalid without telling me! And he wouldn't have done it because he knew the man is not Rupert!"

"I know, Your Majesty, but unfortunately only you, me and the Bishop know that or have you told Joseph by now?"

She shook her head and turned away. "I couldn't… I'm not sure he would understand… forgive me for keeping everything from him."

"I see… well, even if he knew it wouldn't help him right now."

"Indeed." She faced him again. He noticed how tired and worn out she looked. Like someone who had been fighting a lost battle all along always hoping against hope.

"You know… it would be so easy to set him free… one press release, one statement from my side and he would be a free man… and the institution I've worked and lived for my entire life would be shattered… you know I can't tell the world that Rupert Renaldi wasn't the perfect man behind the King… they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand… and lose their respect for him… I can't let that happen…" her voice trailed off and she crossed her arms over her chest.

_"Are those cufflinks yours?"_  
"We still have time… if he leaves now the police won't find him," Sebastian suggested meaningfully.

"They have my initials."

"Yes, but are they yours?"

"I received a pair of them from my wife last Christmas. So yes."

"We found one in the pocket of the corpse and another one on the stairs."

"I see…"

"I told him the same… but he doesn't even listen to me."

_"There was a knife in the back of the victim… a J was graved in the haft. Is it yours?"_

"I don't own something like this."

"We found a note in the diary of his Excellence about you. It said the two of you should meet the night he died in the palace. Apparently, you made the request."

"I never asked the Bishop for a meeting and especially not at night."

"Where is he right now?"

"Talking to Shades… giving him some instructions… apparently he thinks I'm not safe enough…" she knew she would have to add "without him" but she couldn't. Joseph hadn't left her side for over two decades, not even when he had decided it was best for him to leave her after she had refused to accept his proposal. God, how could her life have gotten out of hand like this?

***

_The snow had stopped in the early morning hours and left a world of magic crystals. The sun had come out and the air was cold and clear. Joe had been following Clarisse and her companion through the white wonderland for over an hour and wondered what these two were talking about the whole time._

_He tried to keep his eyes focused on the street in front of him. It was already dark outside and he needed to concentrate on something else – just not her.__"I'm glad we're home. __I'm really starving now," she remarked matter-of-factly as she grabbed her purse. Joe's hand already lay on handgrip as a thought crossed his mind that hadn't occurred to him before._

In the mirror he could see her staring out of the window. She seemed absent-minded since she had left Delesseps' Mansion and they hadn't exchanged a word so far.

While he had been waiting outside he had tortured himself with scenarios of what could have gone on inside the house. Of course it was stupid to believe the Queen would cheat on her husband in there after she had asked him to have tea with them and yet there was something about the way both had behaved that he couldn't explain. Something like a spell, a secret… he couldn't grasp it, but he knew he didn't like it. Being an observer of the King's recent attentive behaviour towards the Queen he sensed today's meeting wasn't something he would appreciate either.

"Joseph?"

"Yes, Madam?"

"Could you please stop the car for a moment?"

"But, Your Majesty…"

"Please."

Her request bewildered him but he did what she asked him to. He stopped the limousine in a cut-out waiting for further instructions.

"Please join me back here." She patted the seat next to her.

For a moment he was paralysed but then climbed out of car. Instead of sitting down next her to chose the opposite seat. For a second his eyes clung to her uncovered knees before he resisted the temptation to admire her perfect physical shape further.

"What is it, Ma'am?" he asked interrupting the increasingly embarrassing silence.

"I wanted to thank you for driving me today."

"It's my job."

"It's not your job as Head of Security to play chauffeur."

He didn't comment on that. She was right, but he couldn't tell her that being close to her was enough reason to play her chauffeur or waiter or anything else she might request.

"Well, I appreciate your offer to help me this afternoon. You could have spent it differently."

"My pleasure, Ma'am." He smiled at her and attempted to leave but her hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Please, wait…" Her voice was gentle and she was leaning close now, because she had bent over to touch him. Her scent reached his nose. It was sweet and fresh at the same time… it was intoxicating.

"Alright." He sank back in his seat and waited.

"I know it sounds a bit… strange but I don't want you to think that there's something…" She paused searching for the right words. "Something going on between his Lordship and me. We're old friends. That's all."

Even in the half-darkness he could see her blushing face and felt immediately ashamed. Had she read his thoughts when she asked him to join them for tea? Or later when she left the house while he had leaned against the car with his eyes on her while she walked down the steps.

"It never crossed my mind you and," he started huskily, but she interrupted him. "Of course, it did cross your mind. Don't lie to me, because you're a terrible liar and I don't appreciate liars."

"That's good to know." He cleared his throat and added: "Now that this is cleared up, we should go back to the Winter Palace. It started snowing again."

"It has?" She looked out of the window and smiled when she saw a few snowflakes dancing through the air. "I like snow. The world seems so much… clearer and more honest in winter."

"Maybe it is," Joseph said and felt his throat tighten while watching her profile. Time had been gentle to her. No one would guess she was almost 50 by now. He even loved the soft wrinkles around her eyes when her face changed while a smile broadened on her face and finally reached her eyes. He had never seen eyes like these. So vital, so sparkling, so deep and blue.

"We should really go now," he repeated hoping she would dismiss him.

"Alright. Let's go. I'm sure the King is already waiting for me."

"I'm sure he is."

He left the font of the car and rushed back behind his steering wheel.

They spent the rest of the short trip in silence. Joe stopped the limousine in front of the gate where a footman already waited with an umbrella to escort Clarisse to the main door.

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes?" Their eyes met in the rear-view mirror.

"Why did you tell me about Lord DeLesseps? It's not source of your concern what I think. It shouldn't." He swallowed hard fearing he had just crossed a line he shouldn't have touched. But he needed to know why she considered him someone who was worthy to know something of her private life.

It seemed an eternity before she answered while their eyes were still connected in the small piece of reflecting glass. He felt goose bumps on his skin when the contact didn't break off and she finally spoke: "I don't want you to think too badly of me. Good night, Joseph."

She knocked against the window and the footman opened the door for her.

***

"Thank you," Frankie said to the old man in old trousers and a dirty robe who had just unlocked the old wooden door behind her and gave him a 100 Euro note. He took it, checked it suspiciously but didn't attempt to leave.

"The guy is a bit strange, if you ask me. You know my wife thinks he looks like Prince Pierre… you know the run-away Prince but her eyes aren't the best."

"Alright. I can go inside alone. As I said he's a good friend of mine." She gave him a smile and placed herself right in front of the door, the handle already in her hand.

"Are you sure I shouldn't go with you? What if he is ill or God beware dead?"

Frankie gave him a thin smile. "I'm sure he's not dead. And now Goodbye, Monsieur."

He hesitated but finally left. He slummed down the hallway turning around every few steps to check if she was still there or not. When she was sure he had vanished she opened the door and slipped into the apartment. It was a cold, dark one room apartment. It smelled as if no renovations had been done in decades.

"Pierre?" She asked into the darkness but didn't receive an answer. She made a few steps forward and stopped again when she realized the floor was creaking under her feet. She listened for a while and heard the almost inaudible sound of someone's snoring.

"Pierre Lucas Rupert Renaldi?" She asked louder and heard someone turning on what sounded like a rather old mattress. Sure she was alone with him she went back to the door and searched for the switch near the doorframe. It took her some time to find it, but then she stood in the harsh light of one lonely bulb. Pierre was asleep. The mattress lay against the wall. His clothes were carelessly spread over the floor and she could see his bare back while the rest of him was covered with a blanket she wouldn't even touch without gloves.

He didn't seem to hear her and so she decided to search the apartment a bit. She sneaked to the only remaining door besides the apartment door and opened it. As expected she found a little bathroom behind it. It was a claustrophobic little room without a window. She switched the light on and bent down to open the only cupboard.

"What the hell," she whispered as she took out a syringe and several unused needles as well as a small bottle filled with a transparent liquid.

***

_It was 3 am, the third hour of the New Year. The ball room of the Winter Palace had emptied over half an hour ago but he had decided to stay a little longer. He held a half empty bottle of champagne in his hand and stared up the big Christmas tree. He had watched the Queen decorating it on Christmas Eve morning and since then he loved to look at it. Looking at it was like watching her, only less painful. After the private dinner party the family had held to welcome Prince Pierre and his fiancé back from their little skiing trip he had attended the grand New Year's Eve ball, which was an old Genovian tradition for the noblesse. It was difficult to guarantee the Queen's safety while ignoring her beauty at the same time. The impeccable, shining silver dress with the fitting scarf made her shine like an angel. She had danced with many men that night but mostly with her husband whose mood had been joyful. The only one who hadn't smiled had been Francesca DeLesseps, the future wife of Prince Pierre._ _The King kept her informed about everything in daily meetings. Over the years she had become the King's most trusted councillor much too some people's dismay. She was the Head of two dozen charity organizations as well as a patron of several Genovian artists whom she advised personally in regular meetings. For a few years she had been busy to transform the Palace grounds and gardens, but she had also become interested in horse breeding and called some of the most beautiful and best trained Genovian racehorses her own. Joe had realized one could only achieve this with a tight schedule and a strength that didn't allow one to be lazy or less than perfect._

Joe had sensed her sadness from the very beginning but he had also sworn to himself he wouldn't talk to her again. At first it had been like a Godsend him when the King had appointed him as the new Head of Security. It had meant to get away from the temptation she had presented. She had been a source of solace for him in his worst times but she had also made him weak and insensible. He always hated to act like a fool but he had done so for several weeks and that was unforgivable. That had been months ago and now he was stable again. His new job included many responsibilities but he appreciated it because the less time he had to think the better.

But then it seemed that God had sent him another lesson he needed to learn, because after being released from Francesca's presence he had to deal with the safety of the Queen of Genovia. At first he had been annoyed with the woman who seemed to love to show off her beauty and her style and then he had fallen in love with her.

He had fallen completely.

Her beauty and her devotion to her country had caused him feel ashamed for his selfish affair with the bride of the crown prince. She was perfect and he was a jerk.

She was perfection and she lived it day after day in appearance and posture. The same perfection she demanded from the rest of her staff. Not that she was unfriendly or treated any of them unfairly, but she had a demanding nature and the King seemed only too happy to let his wife take care of all the things he wasn't interested in. Like their estates and their servants and employees.

It had taken Joe only a few weeks to realize why the Queen lived the way she lived. He had never met anyone busier and more active. Aside from the enormous effort to keep herself fit and in shape she was also well-informed about Genovia's political and economic affairs.

He always felt a bit clumsy in her presence but it also challenged him to get her attention. She still hadn't danced with him as she had promised, but maybe one day…

He took a champagne glass from the bar and filled it. He hadn't had the chance to welcome the New Year at midnight because he was busy with checking whether only fireworks caused the noise and not some hidden gun. He toasted silently to the tree wishing himself and her a happy new year. A better one than the last.

"Has nobody ever told you drinking alone isn't healthy for one's mind?" Her voice startled him and he choked on the champagne.

"Your Majesty!"

"What are you doing here at this hour?" she asked while approaching him. To his surprise she was still wearing her silver gown.

"Well, I couldn't sleep. May I ask you what you are doing here?"

"I was talking to my son until now. I'm afraid he and his fiancé have problems."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said avoiding her eyes. He felt stupid to offer her some champagne and so he just dropped the bottle and the glass next to him on the floor.

"She'll come around. Royal life is not easy but one can get used to it. Anyway, the wedding date is set and I'll make sure nothing will go wrong until then. I would be very proud to call Francesca our next Queen," Clarisse said with a smile, her eyes resting on him.

He had no idea what to reply and looked down to his feet feeling miserable. A strange silence settled over them and then he heard her clearing her throat.

"Joseph?"

"Ma'am."

"I always wanted to ask you something but maybe… maybe it's a bit too frank…"

"Just ask."

"When you started working for us you didn't wear this earring. Then suddenly you did… I don't mind, but I would love to know the story behind it."

It was the first time she was asking him a personal question. How he wished to be happy about her interest in him but why did she have to ask him about the earring?

"A stupid bet I lost… nothing serious." He had lost a stupid bet about the latest soccer scores to Francesca after they had gotten drunk together and made love. She had forced him to buy an earring and to wear it for the rest of his life. The idiot he was.

"I see… so it wasn't an attempt to survive your midlife crisis."

"Maybe it was…," he said still wishing to be anywhere but here.

"Joseph…"

"Your Majesty."

"I'm not forgetful you know. I still owe you a dance."

Now he had to look at her. Why was she saying this now? Now that the ball was over…

"I know, Ma'am. But you don't have to…."

"Oh, I do," she said quickly. "It's just that His Majesty and I… let's say he wouldn't approve."

"Then maybe we should forget about it," Joe suggested lowly.

"No." She curtsied formally and stretched her hand out to him. "I tend to keep my promises, Sir. So, would you care to share a dance with me?"

He watched her with his mouth wide open. The room was semi dark, they had no music, she told him the King wouldn't like her to dance with him and yet she offered him to make his dream come true. How could he refuse? How could he resist the opportunity to hold her in his arms just once?

Driven by a force stronger than him and his bad conscious he guided her to the middle of the room where he put his hand on her waist and took her other hand into his. He moved her slowly over the marbled floor to a melody that only existed in his head but when their minds connected as their bodies did he could see the very same notes coming to life in her crystal blue eyes.

***

The ballroom wasn't the place where he had expected her to be. When she told him she wanted to talk to Pierre he had believed her and had started to work on some papers while waiting for her to return. But after an hour had passed, he had become tired and irritated about her lasting absence and thus started searching for her.

Seeing Clarisse dance with Joe felt like allowing a cold hand to grab his heart and wrench it until no blood was left. The pain became almost physical and he had to lower his eyes because otherwise a senseless rage would have taken over and ruined his relationship with her forever. He had known the day would come when she fell for someone else. He had never considered DeLesseps a threat. Maybe that had been the reason why he picked him. The man wasn't dangerous. But the man downstairs certainly was a threat. His life saver and trusted Head of Security and his wife dancing together with their bodies pressed against each other was a sight that almost killed him. Even if they didn't cross a certain line the inevitable was going to happen sooner or later.

_Her breath was fast and her heart beat like a drum in her chest. What was she doing? Why tonight? Why at all? Was it that she sensed he wanted to hold her as well? Was the way his eyes had been fixed on her the entire evening and a few days before in the car? Was it that looking at him gave her the feeling of doing something wrong? It certainly didn't seem wrong right now that he danced with her._

Francesca leaned against the bathroom door and drew a deep breath. She still held the small bottle with the unidentified liquid in her hand and tried to collect her senses. She would have to find an analyst for it, but Stephan was dead and who else could she trust?

The only other way to learn what was in the bottle was asking Pierre but would he talk to her? Since she had nothing left to lose she decided to go for it and deal with the consequences later.

"Pierre?" she asked loudly while going to the mattress on which he was lying. "Pierre! Get up!" She grabbed the blanket and tore it from his body. "We have to talk!"

As intended he jerked around and came to sit on his knees. "What the hell…," he cursed, his fingers stuck in his messed up hair. He struggled to whirl around and his jaw dropped when he recognized Frankie.

"A priest shouldn't use swear words, you know," she said rather boldly and added, "get up, we have to talk."

"How did you find me?" he asked angrily and rose from his mattress. He stumbled around to find his shirt that lied on the floor.

"There aren't too many houses in this city which accept cash to pay the rent. You're lucky that stupid codger hasn't recognized you. He wouldn't mind to sell his own mother as long as she was well-paid for!"

"In Genovia people don't care for ex-princes. They use to stick to people they like."

"That's your problem, not mine."

She watched him while he buttoned his shirt. He seemed to have regained his composure but she noticed how ill he looked. His face was pale and his eyes red.

"What do you want? Did my mother sent you?"

"I think she has other problems than a lost son… although I know she's hurting about the way you treat her!"

"Sure, she is," he said and yawned to express his disbelief. "You heard about the Bishop?"

"Yes. Awful thing. I liked him."

"Yes, me too… but obviously your friends thought he had to die."

"And what is this supposed to mean?"

"If it wasn't your dear "father"," the disgust in her voice couldn't be more obvious, "who killed him, one of the gentleman who made it possible for him to play the King must have killed him. I have a list with names, you know. It's quite extraordinary and I was really surprised to find out that you've chosen to collaborate with people who once tried to kill your parents!"

"What are you talking about, Francesca?" Pierre sank onto an old wooden chair at the window and looked at her with annoyance.

"I'm talking about your meeting in London."

"I never was in London, for God's sake!" he yelled and hit the table angrily. "I don't know what you want from me!"

"Pierre, these men are using you. They use your love for your father and your bad conscious to manipulate you! This man isn't your father and I can prove it!"

"What can you prove?" His hand was covering his face and he yawned again. Determined not to let him irritate her she continued with a steady voice without taking her eyes off him.

"I can prove your father is dead."

"And how?"

"I have your father's hospital records in my safe. A friend of mine who died last night managed to deliver them to me before his killer could get his hands on them."

"And what is written in those records?"

"Your father didn't die from a cardiac disease that was caused by a chronic inflammation of his lungs. Your father died of Aids."

Clarisse was standing at the window in the hallway and couldn't help but stare at the scene unfolding at the front gate. Even though she clutched the heavy curtains within her fist she felt the pain her nails created in her palm.

At least, the Inspector spared Joseph the humiliation of being taken away in handcuffs, but naturally the whole Palace knew what was going on.

The policeman had assured her it was only a brief time Joseph would have to stay in jail at Pyrus, just until their lawyers could provide bail. Yet, her instincts screamed alarm. She knew he wouldn't be home with her tonight.

***

Her body was betraying her and gave away that this was more than a dance. Deep inside it felt like starting to make love. She didn't want to stop moving with him, she wanted his hands all over her and not just on her hips. She imagined how it would be to lay trapped under him while his lips traced first over face and then all over her skin. She wanted to feel his body pressed against hers for all eternity and she wanted to be guided by him while the dance never stopped. She shivered as his breath brushed over the skin of her neck. Her arms had slid around his neck and she relaxed under his warm hands which rested on her back.

"Your Majesty," he whispered gently. As if awoken from a long dream she started and backed off. Her cheeks reddened instantly and she cleared her throat.

"I should go now." Embarrassed by her rising desire she turned on her heels and rushed for the exit that would lead her into the safety of the hallway and the safety of her own rooms. Rupert was waiting for her… Rupert, her husband, her King…

***

Today was one of the days when her absolute beauty astonished him more than usual. The Queen, elegant as always, was wearing a white fur coat with a fitting cap and her hands were hidden in an old-fashioned muff. She was the most elegant woman he knew. Her aura was bewitching when she allowed it and it could be frightening when she was angry. It was a mixture that attracted him and the more he saw her the more he felt drawn to her.

One dance… he had asked her for a dance and so far she hadn't kept her promise… was he foolish to wait for her to make the first step? Joe could often hear her chuckling and noticed with growing annoyance how often she leaned closer to the man at her side. The obvious affection between those two started to irritate him. Again he found himself wanting to share moments like that with her… her soft voice reaching his ear… vibrating with joy… just for him…

"Don't be stupid," he thought. "She'll never love you…. She won't even look at you once she learnt what you did. Be glad for the time you can spend close to her."

It was the first time he was accompanying her to a private meeting and when she had told him she needed a driver because she wanted to see a friend he had expected a female friend… not a man. A man she was obviously close to. Someone who touched her and called her by her first name. Did the King know anything about this?

"Do you have a new guard? It's not the one who usually looks after you… " Henry remarked curiously as they were approaching the old manor again.

"Actually not… Joseph is our Head of Security since Alexandré has retired. Most of the others have some days off over the holidays and so I asked him to drive me. He was Pierre's bodyguard… you should know him."

"Hmm… maybe I do… you know I have a bad memory on people. I only know that he watches you like a hawk," Henry stated with a smirk causing her to blush slightly.

"Well… he's a bit overprotective since all those attacks."

"He better is. I couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you because your guard isn't paying attention!" He pulled her hand out of the muss and placed a kiss on it. "Let's go inside and have some tea."

"That's a lovely idea. My feet are getting cold! I forgot to tell you… Today I talked to Pierre… he and Francesca will be back for New Years Eve. Why don't you join us for dinner?"

Henry gave her a dry smile when he opened the door for Clarisse. "I'm sure your husband wouldn't appreciate my presence."

"Oh tosh!" She said and turned to Joseph. "Joseph?"

"Ma'am?" He fastened his pace and approached them quickly.

"We'll go inside to warm up. Why don't you join us for a tea? You must be freezing as well."

For a second he was stunned and then he smiled. "Thank you, but I'll wait in the car."

His tone had something final and she knew him well enough by now not to insist.

"Alright then. But don't say I didn't try!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ma'am."

They exchange a smile that didn't go unnoticed by Henry who placed his hand on her back and guided her through the door. Without another word he firmly nodded at Joe and followed Clarisse inside the house.

"Does that mean your husband has finally decided not to cheat on you any longer?" Henry asked with a hint of irony in his voice. He stood at the mantelpiece of the fireplace in the library and drank his tea. Clarisse had made herself comfortable in the armchair and returned his glance.

"Yes, he has."

"Interesting. I hope it's written in blood!"

"Since I don't believe in guarantees anymore I can only hope for the best," she retorted amusedly. "Don't be so grumpy!"

"Oh Clarisse! How can you trust him after what he did to you? Imagine someone had found out about his affair!"

He put his cup on the mantelpiece and sank down in the armchair next to her.

"What kind of man cheats on his wife, tries to buy her a lover, risks her reputation and then when he is tired of his tools runs back to her?" His anger was obvious and yet his eyes told her how worried he was. He took her hand and massaged it gently with his thumb.

"It wasn't that simple, Henry," she sighed and gave him a weak smile. "But I appreciate your concern!"

"I only want to make sure you're happy. And well…" He shrugged. "You never told me who she was."

"It wasn't important." She sounded stern and he took it as a sign of underlying insecurity.

"The affair lasted almost a decade! How can you say it's not important who she is?"

He took her chin and gently turned her face to him. "Clarisse, my Darling… the last thing I want is watching you fooling yourself. I know you want to believe he won't hurt you again but I don't believe he has changed that much! People don't change like that. Not over night!"

She touched his cheek and said with a smile playing around her lips: "Believe it or not… our relationship has changed for the better."

Henry sighed again. Then he placed his hand on the one that was covering his cheek and kissed the palm of her hand.

"So I guess my acceptance of his offer now comes too late, right?"

For a moment she was clueless and when the meaning of his words hit her the expression on her face changed. Her jaw dropped and she felt her throat turning dry. "Henry… I had no idea… you never said a thing."

"You know I love you. I always have."

"We were young… and…"

"I know, but my feelings for you haven't changed since then."

***


	14. Chapter 13

**Thanks to my faithful readers! Please keep up your comments. It helps a lot while writing the next chapter! **

**Chapter 13**

"This is insane, Francesca." Pierre slammed the file with his father's hospital records on her desk and shook his head. "It's a lie. Where the hell should my father have gotten an HIV-infection?"

Frankie had sat in her chair and preferred not to say a word while Pierre had been reading. It was surprising enough that he had agreed to come with her. She didn't want to spoil her success by putting pressure on him.

She straightened up and explained calmly: "I don't know but apparently he had AIDS. Those records don't lie. I bet his illness was the reason why we couldn't find his corpse in the coffin. He was buried somewhere else to make sure no one would ever find out a thing."

Pierre leaned back and gave her a long pensive look. "What about my mother? She seems extremely healthy. Wouldn't he have passed it on to her somehow?

"I don't know… I don't know how close they actually were in the last few years before he died."

"I can't believe it. And I know my father didn't cheat on her."

"Well… seems he did… at some point in his marriage. Or he got it from a blood transfusion or he hurt himself and came in contact with someone who was infected before… there are a number of possibilities but as far as I know nothing like that happened. At least he wasn't treated because of something serious in Genovia… of course a small cut is enough to make an infection possible but do you know someone in his environment who had the virus?" Frankie shook her head and sighed. "As far as I know he didn't even need blood after the attack in front of the church all those years ago. He was always a healthy man until he got his so-called chronic heart insufficiency --- which by way was made public at the same when they performed the first AIDS test on him."

She pointed at the file, feeling sorry for Pierre. Deep in her heart she sensed she could get through to him if he only opened up to her a little bit.

"It's ridiculous!" Pierre hissed and pushed himself out of the chair. "My father loved my mother! I know that."

"Love isn't everything in a relationship," Frankie stated quietly.

Pierre laughed. A bitter, harsh laugh. He shook his head and said huskily: "That's the one thing you never understood. Love, my dear Francesca, is everything. And once you found it you shouldn't fool around and stick to it and the one person that God sent you! My father loved my mother. I know they had their problems, especially after Joe came into the picture, but I know he never betrayed her."

"You weren't always around, Pierre… actually you spent a lot of time anywhere but in Genovia. Sometimes our parents simply don't work as we want them to. We can accept they are human like us or we decide to ignore it. And I doubt Joe was the cause for their problems even if some people put in the greatest effort to make you believe that!"

She opened her drawer and took the small bottle with the transparent liquid. She put it emphatically on the desk, her eyes resting on him. "Will you tell me what's in it of your own free will or will I have to consult someone to find out what it is?"

"You searched my apartment?"

"Didn't take long to search the hole. So?"

In a flash he bent over her desk and stared at her angrily. "Go to hell!"

"Too late. I've already been there."

For a few moments longer they simply held eye contact, trying to stare the other one down. The tension their eyes created became unbearable and Francesca felt her pulse rising by the second. Then a knock on the door broke the connection and Pierre backed off.

"Yes?"

Lionel peaked into the door and announced shyly: "Milady, there's a visitor for you. He said it's urgent."

"And who is it?"

"He said his name was Henry DeLesseps."

Francesca's face got pale and she swallowed. "Why me?… Bring him into the salon. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay." Lionel left the room again and Frankie shrugged her shoulders. "Of course, you can leave whenever you want to but if I were you I would think about everything a little bit longer. Your mother is in danger as long as this guy is living in the Palace. He or his friends have already killed an Archbishop and I doubt they will hesitate to kill a Queen. Excuse me, please…" She fixed the button on the sleeve of her blouse and straightened her back. "Daddy is back."

***

_"My oldest son is going to be a priest… please tell me I'm dreaming!" Unnerved Rupert leaned back against her. He sighed audibly, only too willing to let the hot water relax his strained muscles, but too many things were spinning around in his head._

_Clarisse chuckled amused and continued to rub his chest with a large sponge. "Give him some time. He'll come around… he's hurting now but one day he'll meet someone else and forget about this mess with Francesca." The disappointment in her words was very obvious. Actually, she was furious with the young woman who had broken her son's heart. That she was the daughter of one of her oldest friends didn't soften her opinion, it only infuriated her more. If she hated something it was the break of trust and that was exactly what had happened when Francesca had turned her back on Pierre and run away with another man._

_"The nerve she has… runs away two weeks before the wedding."_

_"Well, better before than after the wedding," Clarisse remarked bitterly and added some more bath oil to the water. He thought about her last comment for a moment and then he asked seriously: "Did it ever cross your mind before we got married? To run off just like that?"_

_She smiled. "Actually no… I'm too level-headed to do something like this."_

_"Right, I forgot… you're the realistic kind of girl." He closed his eyes and slowly managed to fall back into the relaxed state her massage provided him._

_"Don't fall asleep here… I'm behind you and I don't want to drown in here!"_

_"Don't worry… I'm just trying to evaluate what I've accomplished so far… my oldest son prefers to hide behind in a cassock after his girlfriend got cold feet, my younger son just ran off with an American girl who is probably already pregnant and my current Prime Minister is a supporter of republican influence in this country."_

_Clarisse sighed and stopped her massage. She released the sponge and let it swim in the water. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his wet cheek._

_"Don't worry. It'll be fine. Just let them be. There are things you can't change. You've always been a good father to the boys."_

_"Yes, but it doesn't lack a certain irony that a son of mine has the wish to join the catholic church?"_

_Against her wish she chuckled lightly: "That's true – to a certain extent."_

_For a while silence fell and they just lay in the water, holding each other. Then he suddenly said: "You'll leave for England next week, right?"_

_"Yes, I found the perfect horse… a real English thoroughbred."_

_"I see." He seemed amused. She saw his grin and hit his shoulder with the sponge she caught from the water's edge. "Oh tosh! You don't have to like my hobby but don't make fun of it either!"_

_"Yes, Ma'am!… How long will you be gone?"_

_"Just a few days. I told Joseph to arrange a very quick trip without much fuss. The press doesn't have to know I'll be out of the country."_

_"You'll take Joseph with you?" he asked, holding his breath. Clarisse, unaware of his tension, ran her fingers through his hair and explained light-heartedly: "Actually no… he should stay here, after all Mr. Reagan will pay our country a visit in two weeks. He should be here and take care of everything."_

_"But who will look after you?"_

_"Well, we have more than one bodyguard. I'll be fine, believe me!"_

_He tilted his head so that he had a good look at her face. He adored her face, free from make up with all the small wrinkles around her beautiful eyes._

_"I don't want to risk anything. He'll go with you. I'm sure Mr. Reagan's safety can be guaranteed even if Joseph helps you to guard your high class mare and her English thoroughbred!"_

_"Why does it sound so salacious when you say it?"_

_His former serious facial expression turned into a grin and his hands dove down into the water where he felt her thighs were pressed against his hips._

_"I don't know… you tell me!" he said and sneaked his hands into to the backs of her knees, using some well-aimed pressure there._

_"You play with fire, do you know that?_

_"Always, my dear, always…"_

***

"Now, that's a surprise!" Frankie announced herself quite audible when she closed the door to the salon behind her. "Daddy's back in town."

Lord DeLesseps turned his attention from the flickering fire in the fireplace to his daughter. He hadn't taken off his coat when he entered the house. He held his hat in his hands and all at once he seemed like someone who just came by to drop something before he left again.

"Good evening, Francesca," he greeted her rather coolly, his eyes roaming over her, noticing every detail of her appearance. "How are you? You look stressed out, my dear."

"Well, we live in exciting times," she sighed and offered him a seat without sitting down herself.

"No, thank you. Actually I'm on my way to the Palace."

Frankie smirked and went to the little house bar at the window. "Where else? Did Her Majesty ask you for help or do play the knight in the shining armour all by yourself?"

"She would never ask me to help her."

"Yes, I know."

"And what does that mean?" he asked short-temperedly.

"It means that you're in for another fall if you throw yourself at her. She's married to someone else as you might have read in the papers." The whiskey she poured herself was too warm without ice and she made a face. "Damn whiskey."

"Someone who could be a killer… someone who isn't worthy of her," he pointed out and made a step towards her. "I know that you used your old connections to get information which is top-secret. It wasn't very wise, because some people got the impression you were far too nosey. You annoyed too many people to ask them for help now. Of course, I fixed that for you but now I'm warning you. Stay out of it. It's not your playground anymore."

Francesca laughed and put the glass down. "I see… you prefer it to be yours. Be careful, Harry. She'll kick you to the curb – again."

"We'll see about that, but if not you should thank me on your knees. Maybe you'll get your great love after all."

He gave her a cold nod and left the room without another word. While the door was closing behind him Francesca took the glass and threw it after him. It hit the wooden door. The pieces of the glass and the dark liquid spread over the door, the wall and the floor.

"Damn bastard."

***

With her knees stuck under her chin Clarisse sat on her couch and watched the late evening news on TV. As she had expected the arrest of Joseph was among the top news of the day. Actually, aside from the weather forecast it seemed to be the only news of the day. They brought a short documentary of his life. His Spanish roots, his life as soldier in the Spanish army and his appointment as the Head of Security in the Genovian Palace by (the not so late) King Rupert. The last part was about their wedding two weeks ago and the speculation about how long their relationship had lasted before their surprise wedding. All in all it contained more gossip than real facts which should make her laugh but only brought tears to her eyes. What did they know after all? And what would they say if they knew the truth? They all loved pure love stories and they ached for heart-wrenching drama – as long as it wasn't theirs.

Now the screen showed a picture of the soon-to-be Archbishop of Genovia. Clarisse made a face. All she knew about him was his ambition to become a Cardinal. His choice of joining the Opus Dei spoke for itself. He was a hardliner and she prepared herself for the day of his official introduction.

***

_"I have no reason to doubt the man whose DNA proved he is King Rupert. He is the one and only King and therefore, the Queen has no choice but to entrust herself back into the King's care. I'm sure Parliament will agree with me that since the King is healthy and alive Her Majesty is married to none other than him."  
_  
He smiled and switched the TV off. The necessary and yet pitiful death of the Archbishop of Genovia rendered a good service after all. With Joseph, the Duke of Pyrus, in jail and the new Archbishop on his side, it was only a matter of days before Motaz would have no other chance but to agree to his re-instalment as King of Genovia. Whether or not she wanted soon Clarisse Renaldi would be his.

***

When Pierre set his foot into the Salon he first heard the sound of crashing glass. He looked down and saw the pieces of the smash glass spread all over the floor.

"Huh. I see you still get along very well."

"Shut up!"

"Temper, temper. What happened?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"We just got reacquainted in good old family style," Frankie explained with a smirk. "And you? Have you thought about my offer? The spare room is comfortable, the mattress fits into a bed, the walls are dry and with real paint on it and the food is quite well. So will you stay?"

Feeling challenged by her offer he nodded in agreement.

"I think I will, but I won't answer any more questions about the medication I have to take."

Frankie gave him a pensive glance but then she returned the nod. "Alright. It's a deal. I'll bring you to your room!"

Joe groaned when he sat up from the old ramshackle bed in his cell. The jail in Pyrus was a small one. Genovia was a peaceful country and the last capital crime that had been committed here had happened over ten years ago. In fact, the worst criminals in Genovia these days were thieves who stole the purses of careless tourists.

Murder was a big thing even for the officers who arrested him and they treated him like some kind of dangerous VIP. It amused him how carefully they locked him up, checking the locks and the cell itself twice until he had assured them he hadn't brought any nail files, knives or other kind of weapons with him.

To his dismay the judge who was responsible for his case had refused to let him leave on bail and so he had to wait until the first hearing until he would see some sunlight again. As reason the judge claimed the serious nature and the brutality the crime had been committed with.

Nevertheless, he couldn't feel sorry for himself. What hurt most was what Clarisse had to go through. He was sure she had known he had been lying when he told her they wouldn't have enough evidence to convict him. Fact was they had enough and it was his own fault because he got caught in a web of his own lies.

Lies he had had to invent to protect the one woman he loved more than life itself and the other one who he felt he needed to protect, because he had messed up her life. If he only knew what the Bishop had wanted to tell him when he called him some hours before he died. And who had known they had agreed on a meeting the next day and faked the diary of the Archbishop so that it looked the meeting was scheduled for the night? It couldn't have been the motion to acknowledge the impostor as Rupert. The Bishop had been on his and Clarisse's side all the time. He had no reason to change his mind. But the more he thought about everything the more he found himself in a dead end street. It made no sense at all.

He rose from the bed and stretched. His back was aching as well as his head. He wouldn't survive long on this bed, that was sure.

The door at the end of the corridor opened and a guard came in and approached his cell.

"You have a visitor, Sir. Follow me."

Confused Joe left his cell and followed the man into the visitor's room. One of the two lamps was broken and enough dust to fill the whole Genovian Palace with lay on the few pieces of old furniture.

To his enormous surprise it was Frankie who waited for him. She leaned against the window frame but turned when she heard someone entering.

"Francesca?"

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Silence fell and they waited for the guard to leave before they talked again.

"Do you think this room is safe?" she asked, looking around and narrowed her eyes when she glimpsed a camera in the corner of the ceiling.

"As safe as safe can be," he replied ironically. "Why don't we sit down?"

She made a face and pointed at the wooden chair at the small table. "This suit is new. My tailor will sue me if I ruin it after wearing it for first time."

He chuckled, took a chair and sank down on it. "I bet mine doesn't even know me any longer."

"I'm sorry, you have to go through this."

"Well, whoever did it, did his best to make me look guilty."

"Why didn't you name a certain someone as witness? He told me he talked to you."

"I see… well, it would make him a target and it would make you a target. You see what happened to Charlotte. If she had surprised this man earlier she could be dead as well. This way she just hit her head a little bit."

"Then let me talk to the police. I can explain why he wanted to see you."

"No, the less people are involved in this the better!"

She shook her head and bent over the table. "You don't have to protect me, Joe. I'm fine. It would be better if you saw that you get out of here."

He shook his head, his impatience growing steadily.

"Look, I know from certain people that your exit from your famous employer didn't go quite so smoothly I don't want you to take any risks for me."

"You're the only one who takes risks. Do you think it's easier for Clarisse with you behind bars?"

"She's tougher than you think and I told Shades what to do and what to take care of."

Frankie sighed and finally grabbed the chair and sat down. "You know that the new Archbishop isn't exactly on your side in this. He already announced to the world your marriage isn't valid and I don't think Parliament can postpone its decision much longer. I know there'll be a session in the early afternoon. It could happen that our friend will leave the room as King after the session."

"I'm aware of this. But tomorrow is my hearing. My lawyers are positive about the outcome. No one saw me that night and there were no finger prints on the knife. And those stupid cufflinks weren't mine either because mine are still in our bedroom as my lawyers already checked out. Why should I wear cufflinks with a black turtleneck sweater? You see, Frankie they have nothing."

"Who is the judge?"

"His name is Marcel Laurent. He's new as far as I know."

Frankie wrinkled her forehead and for a moment she seemed to be lost in thought. Then she said lowly: "Marcel Laurent's name was one of the names on the list Motaz got from my father. I bet you a thousand Euros he won't be eager to set you free."

"Then my lawyers will refuse him."

"Because of what? Because he went to a meeting that officially never happened? I'm sure he is clever enough to make sure his name isn't on the list of the GRP. And I doubt the MI6 will be kind enough to allow us to use their information for your release. Officially, they never heard about anything and my father won't help you either. The English couldn't care less about Genovia. On the contrary, since Genovia had the Presidency of the European Council and made an undeniably harsh statement about the English involvement in the American Iraq Policy the relationship between both countries are rather…bad. They would welcome a political change in Genovia." She made a sad face and leaned back. "I'm sorry, Joe."

"I know, I know… I didn't expect anything else from your father. He has many reasons to hate me."

"And the most important has blue eyes and blond hair," she added dryly and rose from the chair. She paced the room and changed the subject.

"Pierre is at my house. I try to talk some sense into him."

"How successful can that be?"

She stopped and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I found something in his apartment… maybe it's some kind of drug. I gave it to Motaz and asked him to get an analysis on it. I don't know if he'll help me, he's quite nervous, because things are getting worse for him, but it's worth a try."

"It surely is." He gave her an encouraging smile which she returned after a short hesitation. "Thank you, Frankie." He stretched his hand out but she shook her head, refusing to take it.

"I think I should go now."

"Okay."

"Tell them to hire a cleaning lady. This place is a paradise for dust bunnies and cockroaches."

***

"Doors!" An outraged Clarisse, followed by her ladies maids who could hardly keep the pace, ordered and stormed towards her quarters. The footmen were just quick enough to have the door completely opened before she had reached them.

"How dare they?" she asked through clenched teeth and searched for first thing to smash. Quickly Olivia rushed towards the desk and saved a big vase before Clarisse could get her hands on it. "Your Majesty, please."

"Oh tosh! I hope Motaz will not dare to look at me again! He did nothing to help me… he just sat there and allowed that… person to take over."

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Do you want some tea?"

"No, I don't want any tea! Just leave me alone!" she yelled annoyed and the two young women discreetly retired. Clarisse hid her face behind the palms of her hands and drew a deep breath. She felt shaky and colder with every heartbeat. Her pulse was racing and echoed in her head. It was official. Her marriage to Joseph was a joke, a stranger had become her King and her husband… she had imagined how it would feel, but now she knew it had been impossible to picture all the emotions and thoughts that were rushing through her head and heart right now.

This was too much. What was left to do now?

"Doors!" She heard the unwelcome voice from the outside and then the French doors to her private sanctuary opened.

"Good afternoon, my dear. A pity you left Parliament in such a hurry. Outside the press waits for some snap shots of us!"

He gave her a smile and made an elegant bow towards her.

"There won't be any snap shot with you and me together!" she hissed and pointed angrily at the door, wishing she could slap his grin out of his face.

"You can leave now! I have no interest to talk to you!"

"Tsk, tsk… watch your temper. I just talked to the Prime Minister, a wise man, you know. I'm glad he finally agreed that a King is a King, no matter how long he has been missing. We both think a coronation on the last Sunday of this month would be perfect!"

"A coronation? What coronation?" She narrowed her eyes, bewildered by his plans.

"My… excuse me, our coronation," he explained calmly. "The Archbishop gave me the advice to repeat the coronation – just to show off how stable and… strong the monarchy is."

"Once you're crowned no one can fight your claim to the throne… that's why you want to do it. When you're crowned there's no turning back," she said almost breathlessly. The plan was perfect.

"Anyway… for this week I would suggest to renew our wedding vows. The people of Genovia have to know Their Majesties are reunited. Maybe Pierre could marry us. What do you think?"

"I would rather spend the rest of my life in a Siberian coalmine before I agree to marry you. As far as I'm concerned my husband is Joseph and no one else."

His facial expression changed dramatically and he made a quick step forward, causing her to step backwards. But in a flash he had grabbed her by her arms, dragging her close to him. "Wrong answer, my dear. You should change your attitude towards me or I'll promise you, your life will end up a living hell!"

"I'm not scared of you!" she said between clenched teeth and freed herself from him. She pushed him backwards and rushed behind her desk to put some physical distance between them.

"You don't have to be scared but let me tell you one thing. You can start again to be my wife – with all consequences and duties – or you can avoid me, but be sure that I know how to find myself a way through this door." She followed his finger that pointed to her bedroom door. "It's one way or the other."

"You won't dare!"

He smirked, fixed his cufflinks and said: "Maybe it helps that I know the right people who can arrange that a certain someone won't end up in jail for murder and be banned after his release. It's just a matter of cooperation from your side."

"Cooperation is necessary in many aspects of life but in this case I would say the conversation is over!"

Clarisse whirled on her heels and felt her jaw dropping when she recognized Henry DeLesseps standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry that I'm late but security around here is very tight these days!"

"Henry!" Clarisse almost yelled in relief. "What are you doing here?"

She passed the King on her way to Henry and hugged him tightly.

"DeLesseps," the King mumbled and bit his inner cheeks.

"Well, you know I like Genovia in the fall and I thought it's time for a visit." He kissed her cheeks and caressed her chin with his thumb. "You look a bit tired, my dear."

"Well, it's a bit hectic around here. But were are my thoughts?" She turned to the King and started to introduce the men. "I don't think you've met before… His Lordship Henry Delesseps, 8th Earl of Whitewood this is… whoever."

Henry cleared his throat but didn't bother to stretch his hand out. "No, I'm afraid this gentleman and I never had the displeasure to meet before."

Clarisse couldn't even name how the physical presence of Henry reassured her. He stood close to her and the protective aura of his body was like a shield for her.

"I'll be back," the King declared and left the room.

"Shut the doors," Clarisse ordered and the footmen obliged her command.

After the doors had closed Clarisse leaned with closed eyes against Henry and breathed out heavily. "You couldn't have found a better moment to appear," she said and her lips formed a smile. "Thank you."

"Anything for you. I arrived last night but it was too late to come to the Palace and this morning the Police didn't allow me to go through until the Parliament session was over. I heard it on the radio. I'm very sorry, Clarisse," he said, slipping his arms around her. "But I promise you from now on you won't have to spend another second with him if you don't want to."

She backed off a little and looked straight into his face. He noticed the dark shadows around her eyes and the nervous twinkle in them.

"You have no idea what he really wants…" She blurred out but he gently placed his index finger on her lips, denying her the pain to repeat his disgusting offer. "I've heard enough. It's alright… as long as I'm here he won't come close to you."

"And if he really has the power to spare Joseph a lifetime in jail?"

"We'll take care of that later," Henry said and started to take off his coat. "First, I need some more information and nice cup of hot tea. In case you don't know, Genovia in autumn is a pain in the arse!"

***

The white limousine slowly came to a halt in front of the jail house in Pyrus. The chauffeur climbed out of the car, opened the huge umbrella and quickly rounded the large vehicle. He opened the door and a woman in an old-fashioned black cloak with a large hood left the car. She rang the bell at the front door three times and a guard let her in.

***

He wasn't asleep. It felt to him as if the day wasn't over yet. He sensed something was about to happen and lay still on his bed and stared into the darkness. Suddenly the lights flashed on and agitatedly he almost jumped from the mattress.

He heard steps from the hallway and went closer to the bars. He saw his guard and a woman whose face was hidden under a large-sized hood. A smile broadened his face. He knew that cloak and he knew who was hidden in it.

"You have a visitor, Sir."

"Open the door!" the woman ordered sharply but the guard hesitated.

"I don't know… my boss didn't say anything about…"

"Just open it!"

The man sighed but finally unlocked the door and closed it again after she had entered the cell and turned the key twice.

"I know better places for a vacation." The woman removed the hood from her head and Joseph didn't waste his time with answering and instead took her into his arms.

"My Darling!" He cupped her face with his hands and spread kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids and her chin before he finally captured her mouth with his. Her arms slipped around his neck and she seemed to melt into him while the kiss went on and on.

"You shouldn't be here," he mumbled between kisses. "You don't belong here."

"And you don't belong here either," she returned and leaned against him. Her head rested on his shoulder and her arms were wrapped around his middle. The warmth of his body almost made her forget the emotional pain of the day. Being in his arms felt as if nothing could ever hurt her.

"I've talked to your lawyers again. They'll do their best to get you out of here… in two nights you'll be home again. With the evidence they have they won't have another choice but set you free!"

He kissed her hair and rubbed her back. "You're right," he lied and added calmly, "the guard told me about Parliament's decision…"

"It was what we expected after all… I just don't have any idea how to prove that he isn't who he claims to be." She shrugged her shoulders. He noticed a lonely tear rolling down her cheek and tenderly wiped it away.

"First of all, you have to make sure he won't come close to you… tell Shades to hire more guards… I've already discussed a new security system with him. I couldn't live if I knew he could hurt or even be close to you."

"He won't… don't worry." She tilted her head and let her lips brush over his mouth. "Kiss me, Joseph… please."

He obliged and they kissed again. At first gently and slowly, enjoying the rediscovered closeness, reliving the love they shared. His mouth was warm and welcoming to the play of her teasing tongue. Warmth ran through her veins, heating her up, fighting the darkness that had occupied her since he had to leave her. The kiss grew more passionate and she revelled in the feeling of belonging and unconditional love.

"You have to go now, Clarisse… please… this isn't the right place… if someone sees us."

"I'll see you soon," she whispered, kissed him again and then wiped away the lipstick she had left on his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She hit one bar with her ring, causing an unpleasant, metallic echo and in a flash the guard appeared and let her leave the cell.

***


	15. Chapter 14

**Thanks to my wonderful reviewers! Your comments are great and you rock! **

**The next chapter is a pure flashback chapter about the events of March 1985 when Clarisse, Joe and Henry went to England. It doesn't belong to the mainplot about the throne of Genovia, but I simply felt the need to write to show what happened with those 3 on that certain trip. Enjoy and let me know what you think! **

**Chapter 14**

_Day 1 of the visit _

It was late. And it was cold.

They had arrived in the morning after a troubled flight because of some spring time storms over the continent. Despite her being used to flying he had seen Clarisse's face pale and had known she was sick and scared. As a result she hadn't eaten all day, was quite harsh and after the indispensable cognac after dinner she had quickly retired for the night.

Joe leaned against the pillar on the terrace and looked into the garden. Everything here in England was green and wet and he had to admit that the country had made a less than stellar impression. He preferred the warmer Genovian climate to the English cold. But they would stay for three more days and he had to survive the weather and her proximity.

He had refused to go with her, had tried every excuse he could think of, but the King had insisted he should go with Clarisse to ensure her safety. She had been present when he had this conversation with the King and bravely avoided his eyes when he had tried to install eye contact between them. They both knew being together without having the whole Palace staff and just one other guard around was a difficult test for them to pass.

New Years Night and the dance they had shared had left them shaken to the core. On one hand it felt wonderful to know she had feelings for him but on the other hand she was still unreachable, would remain that way. Clarisse was married to his King, never alone and he, her bodyguard, had slept with her son's fiancée. That alone was unforgivable and the reason why he could never have her. It was his burden to carry.

He groaned and shook his head. He wished he could have stayed at home. Far away from her, though it would have killed him to know she was alone with DeLesseps. He smirked. Maybe the King knew she wasn't safe alone with the Lord and that was the reason he had sent him to England. It was obvious that Henry DeLesseps had had his reasons for offering Clarisse to stay in his family home although he rarely used it himself. One couldn't help but notice that the mansion had been renovated recently. The whole house looked and smelled as if everything from the curtains to the cups in the kitchen had been replaced. Even a new high technology security system had been installed. So, aside from the host being all over her, the Queen was absolutely safe in his old family bunker.

Unhappily, he dug his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He had stopped smoking a few years ago but now seemed the right time to restart his bad habit. Living in the Palace with her was one thing but knowing her as close as she was right now was hard to bear. Her room was just above this terrace. Only a staircase away…

***1985***

As always when she felt nervous Clarisse Renaldi played with a strand of her hair. She rolled it over her finger and set it free only to search for it again. Under normal circumstances she would be worn out. The day had been exhausting. The flight could be called a catastrophe and the fact that Joseph had come with her was another, more disturbing point why she didn't feel at ease. She had wracked her brain why on earth Rupert had sent Joseph with her when far more urgent things, like the arrival of the American President, had to be arranged.

But now he was here and she had to make sure they didn't spend too much time alone. To her endless shame she had to admit that she felt incredibly attracted to her husband's Head of Security. She had always liked him, found him attractive, yet a bit mysterious when he wandered around the Palace in his dark clothes which he never seemed to exchange for lighter colours, not even in the summer. Since he had started accompanying her to her royal duties, she had come to the conclusion that he could be witty, kind and even charming if he wanted to. He was a good listener and a patient adviser when it came to questions regarding the Palace and their private security. But it was more than the feeling of being utterly safe in his presence; it was his kindness and his devotion that drew her to him. A kindness she sensed he kept under the rug especially towards her. Maybe she knew about this hidden quality of him because she herself was a master of hiding and disguise – even towards her children and her husband.

Rupert was an attractive man who knew how to push her buttons and if he wanted to he took advantage of it, he used to tear her into a whirlwind of passion. But every time she looked at Joseph, when she was sure he wouldn't notice it, she tried to imagine what he could do to her. How it would feel to be loved by him and to make love to him. With him she had started to feel this endless sea of tenderness that she wanted to spread over him. She wanted to unlock his armour and reveal the man inside.

"Clarisse, you're a fool," she lowly told herself and a sigh escaped her throat. She leaned against the window frame and let her eyes roam the garden outside. She loved the English countryside, always had, although she had been born in Genovia. But her mother was British and she had spent a lot of time here in her youth before she became engaged to Rupert. It was too sweet of Henry that he had prepared his house for her visit, but part of her wished he hadn't put in all this effort. She knew he just wanted to charm her, but how could she tell him that she didn't feel for him what he felt for her? Maybe she had never done so…

She wanted to turn away but then her eyes caught a glimpse of someone walking in the garden. She recognised the elegant yet male movements and stiffened. Joseph took a walk through the garden. She witnessed him stopping and turning. Afraid he could see her she jerked away from the curtains and collided with the pillar of her four poster bed.

A nervous giggle escaped her throat and then she sank down on the mattress. A rather exhausting time seemed to lie ahead of her.

*** 1985 ***

_Day 2_

Joe grumped at the sky. The rain had stopped some time ago but the clouds still hung over the soft hills and threatened to drown them. Why couldn't this horse be in Spain or South America? Somewhere, where he didn't have to freeze?

Clarisse and the Lord had vanished into the stables together with the veterinarian over an hour ago. Sometimes he heard DeLesseps' laughter and had to roll his eyes. He disliked the man and he sensed the feeling was mutual. The Lord was just too clever to let Clarisse notice it.

He had given the other guard most of the day off because he had no idea why the two of them should stand around without having anything to do.

He looked around and considered another little exploration of the grounds. The night before he hadn't gotten far, because he had noticed the light in Clarisse's room and had seen the movement of the curtains. The idea that she watched him brought a smile to his face. How easy it would be to pay her a visit without anyone noticing. He shook his head and made a determined step away from the stables. Away from her. Somehow he felt the examination of this honourable animal would take a while.

*** 1985 ***

Only a major catastrophe like an earthquake or a hurricane could stop Clarisse Renaldi from having her late afternoon tea. She was very much a woman of schedule and routine as Joe had learned quickly when he had started to work at the Palace. It was understandable considering her busy life and it didn't surprise that she, although being on a private visit, didn't change her daily routine.

It was half past four and Clarisse Renaldi sat in the Salon in front of the fireplace, warming her feet at a delicious flickering fire and drinking her tea. She had asked Joe to join her and he had gladly accepted. He used the time to be alone her with while DeLesseps was making a few calls in his study.

Now as he sat next to her he almost regretted his acceptance of her invitation. The silence between them was a little awkward but being a Queen and used to inconsequential chatter and endless small talk, Clarisse finally found a way to start a normal conversation.

"So, this is your first trip to England?" she asked with a trembling voice not taking her eyes off the flames.

"Yes, it is."

"And do you like England?"

"Let's say I imagined it a bit differently." His comment caused her to smile. "And how did you imagine it?"

"Less wet and cold, despite all preconceptions."

She laughed. "Well, it's always like this in spring… but you know, I love the freshness and the green. All this was once home to me."

Astonished he turned his head and checked her profile. She seemed far away in her thoughts. "And I thought Genovia is your home country."

She laughed, wiping away his objection with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Oh, it is. But I spent a part of my youth here," she explained dreamily. "It was a carefree time."

"Do you miss it?"

She tilted her head for a moment, evaluating her feelings. "Sometimes when things are difficult… not that things would be less difficult if they happened to me while living in another country… it's just that I feel more free here and less observed."

"Well, that's understandable."

Again silence fell. He finished his tea and let his eyes focus on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

"I hope you aren't bored here… I know you didn't want to come with me. I guess preparing the President's visit would be much more interesting for you," she said matter-of-factly.

"It was the King's wish to send me here. I won't judge his decision." He cleared his throat and rose from the chair. "I'll add some more wood to the fire." Just to keep himself occupied he took some wood from the small shelve next to the poker stand and shifted it on the already burning pieces. The fire grew quickly and he pulled back when the flames rose close to him.

"I just want you to know it wasn't my idea," she explained now suddenly nervous and turned her blushing face towards the window. He turned, but then stopped in his movement and waited.

"Well, I know… you would never ask."

The final tone in his voice sent a cold thrill down her spine. Gaining courage she faced him again. Their eyes met in the shine of the flickering fire.

"Why did you say that?"

"Because it is true. You don't want me here just as much as I don't want to be here."

The sentence hung in the air and she searched for the right words, any words. She opened her mouth, closed it again and lowered her eyes to the tip of her toes.

Without looking at him she sensed he was turning to her. Over the last weeks she had often found herself sensing his presence when he entered a room. It was almost scary how she reacted to him even when he kept a huge physical distance between them. And now he was closing the distance and she could almost feel his hand touching her knee.

But it never ended up there. Before the contact could be made the door to the salon opened audibly and Lord DeLesseps entered the room with determined steps. Joseph rose quickly from the floor and patted the dust from the wood off his trousers and his shirt.

Clarisse cleared her throat and put her cup on the small coffee table next to her. If the Lord had noticed the electric atmosphere, he didn't show. He just closed the door and said cheerfully: "Ah, I see you've made yourself comfortable… I hope you like the tea, my dear. It's your favourite!"

***1985***

With his hands buried in his trouser pockets Joe stood on the terrace again and stared into the rain. It never seemed to stop raining in this country just as the fire inside him didn't stop burning. Being close to her had become dangerous. Too dangerous to cope with. In the afternoon she had seemed as nervous as he had been. They were both aware of the tightrope walk they were performing and both felt as drawn to each other as they were afraid of what would happen if they allowed their feelings to take over.

He heard steps approaching him. No high heels (thank God). Slow, deliberate, male steps.

"Milord. What can I do for you?" he asked nonchalantly, without hiding his tired attitude. Henry DeLesseps stopped next to him but didn't face him. Just like Joe's eyes his were glued to the rain.

"I thought you preferred to play with fire and now you're standing here close to get wet…"

"Nice allegory. What do you want?"

"Stay away from Her Majesty unless you want her to learn about your very own way of deceiving her family."

Joe smirked. "And you would deceive yours… isn't it enough that your daughter has spent half of her life hiding from you. Do you want to add betrayal to your fabulous way of raising her?"

He heard hectic steps and a second later he felt DeLesseps hand at his throat. Joe let him tighten his grip but was ready to push him away.

"Don't you dare to tell me anything about my daughter. It was you who ruined her future. You may have screwed her brain out but it will be a cold day in hell before I allow you to do the same to Clarisse!"

"If that is the way you think of her, you didn't deserve her anyway." With one calculated punch Joe freed himself from the uncomfortable clutch and stepped back. The Lord drifted backwards but kept his balance.

"I'm warning you, Ramirez… don't get too close to her. The day you touch her will be the last day in her service. You know she won't forgive you for hurting her son and ruining the dynasty she sacrificed her life for."

Joe shook his head, his smile boldly plastered on his face while he sensed a new wave of insecurity hitting him. He knew the Lord was right. Clarisse wouldn't forgive him if she knew what he had done.

***1985***

_"Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn."  
_  
Clarisse sighed annoyed and closed the valuable folio and placed it back into the shelf. Perhaps her plan of finding a good read in Henry's library to fight her insomnia wasn't such a good idea after all. The first item she had pulled out was William Shakespeare's _"Romeo & Juliet"._

"Please…" The last thing she needed was a reminder about undying love that expressed itself in death. What she had learned about love in her life was enough to write her own book. She just didn't know whether she liked every facet of love. The one she was experiencing right now tore her at heart to an extent that wasn't healthy for her. How could it be that everything she did to keep Joseph away from her ended in getting closer to him.

A romantic novel surely wasn't the right thing to distract her. Her only chance would be leaving earlier for Genovia. Back in the Palace she would find a way to avoid him successfully – an idea she hated instantly. She didn't want to avoid him. She wanted him to be around as much and as close as possible. Ashamed by her thoughts she closed her eyes and leaned forward. She rested her forehead against the wooden frame of the large bookshelf, sighing lowly before she drew a deep breath to clear her mind. The day had exhausted her and the next few days didn't promise to become any better. She should just pick a book and retire to her room before Henry or Joseph found her in here.

***1985***

Henry was a bit nervous. Almost like a teenager who was about to have his first date. She had always been the only woman who could make him feel that way. But he was standing there, in his bathrobe, thinking about what to tell Clarisse once she opened the door for him. Not that he was even thinking about staying with her for the night… that was out of question. He just wanted time with her. Time was at a premium, because she would leave in two days.

First love was a funny thing. No matter how far away she had been or how long he hadn't seen her, she had always been a part of him. The older he grew the more he seemed to long for her. He had adored the young girl he used to play with during their summer holidays. He had fallen in love with the teenager who used to tease him for being a sheepish young man, and he had lost himself in her arms when they had started to consume their physical relationship the summer before she had become engaged to Crown Prince Rupert. He still didn't know why she hadn't run away with him before her father could sell her to the Renaldis for a suitable title and an adequate retirement fond.

Later, when the King himself had offered him Clarisse on a silver platter his refusal had come from the knowledge that she wouldn't want to live like that, but now he wasn't so sure about that anymore.

Ramirez seemed to tempt her. He was the proverbial still waters running deep. He still thanked God on his knees that his daughter hadn't fallen pregnant by this guy. He didn't know what he had done to him if he had disgraced Francesca's name even more than he already had. It was hard to chew that Clarisse seemed to like her bodyguard… seemed to be attracted to him which was the sole explanation for her nervous behaviour when he was around. And of course the bastard did his best to be close to her. The mere idea Clarisse could fall for his scam made his skin crawl. He didn't even deserve to breathe the same air not to mention to share her bed.

***1985***

That she wasn't in her room astonished him. Once again, she had retired shortly after dinner, telling him she needed to work on some papers. That had been two hours again and he knew that she never went to sleep before midnight.

With raised eyebrows he left and went downstairs. Light shining through the half open door caught his attention and then a smile appeared on his face. Of course… she was in the library. She had complimented his big collection earlier today and knowing her as a lover of books he should have known she would pick out some items sooner or later.

He entered the library and found her tracing the backs of a line of books with her index finger. Her appearance made his stomach knot. She wore a white silk nightgown with a fitting robe. The smooth fabric gently played around her slim figure, making him even more aware of how much wanted to be close to her.

"Clarisse?" He asked gently and closed the door. Her head whirled around as if caught but when she saw him she relaxed a bit.

"Henry… I hope you don't mind me searching your stock… but it's too impressive to ignore it!" She smiled at him erratically and he saw she was trembling when she pushed a volume back in its place on the shelf.

"No, of course not. Clarisse, are you alright?" he asked attentively, trying to get a hold of her hand. She was startled by the contact and blushed immediately.

"I guess, I'm just tired… will you excuse me, please?" She gave him a quick smile that didn't reach her eyes. She attempted to pass him but he slipped his arms around her middle, closing the distance between them.

He hadn't planned to attack her like this; he hadn't planned to make such a bold move. For a decade now he had tried to convince himself that looking at her and hearing her voice was everything he would get from her. But she was too beautiful and in his opinion her appearance screamed for some tender attention and comfort.

Unable to stop he let his hands roam over her arms, revelling in the feeling of holding her. He felt the warmth of her body through the silk and repressed a moan when her breasts came in contact with his chest.

"Henry, please…" she whispered, although not backing off. "This will lead to nothing."

"I love you, Clarisse."

She lifted her head and their eyes met. When she saw the pain in his eyes she slowly shook her head and made a step back. "I'm sorry, Henry…" she started but he placed his index finger on her lips. "I'm the one who is sorry… I won't say it again unless you want me to."

Tears threatened and her voice broke when she addressed him huskily: "You're a wonderful man, Henry. I'm the one who is messed up and I shouldn't have led you on to believe I could want you the same way you want me. I better go now."

Before she could make an even bigger fool of herself and hurt him even more with her platitudes she escaped the room and her own insecurities.

When she closed the door behind her and found herself in the safety of her own rooms her nerves finally got the best of her. She leaned backwards against the door, shaking as loud sobs escaped her mouth and choked her. It had been years since she had cried like this and to her surprise it was a relief to let her tears run over her face. She allowed herself to let go and sank down, her arms wrapped around her bent knees and buried her head in the safety of her crooked body.

_Day 3_

To his enormous surprise the rain had stopped over night and the sky was blue when he awoke. When he let his eyes roam the garden from his window he suddenly understood what Clarisse liked about this country and why it was possible to fall for the wild landscape and the fresh air. He closed the window with a wide smile on his face. The weather promised a good day after all.

***1985***

The fresh wind felt rough on her skin. It was cold and hurt but she needed to clear her head.

She encouraged her horse to run faster, ever onwards to the horizon. She had spent a restless night blaming herself for the insane mental state she had been in for the last few months.

Getting some fresh air and solitude seemed to the only way to escape from all this. Joseph wouldn't appreciate that she had left without telling him or at least taking someone else with her but she didn't care. She needed to be alone. She needed a place where nobody could find her and ask questions.

She focused on what seemed to be the end of the world and leaned forward, pressing her thighs into the sides of her horse. The animal obeyed and increased its pace and Clarisse felt its muscles working harder. The grass beneath them glittered from the moisture of the recent rain.

Why did she feel numb all of a sudden? Why did she feel as if her limbs froze? The horizon blurred in front of her eyes and suddenly everything seemed black. She couldn't say where she was anymore, she couldn't remember why she had decided to go for a ride. Sensing its mistress' turmoil, the horse slowed down but couldn't stop before Clarisse lost her balance and ended up unconsciously on the wet grass.

***1985***

"What do you mean, you don't know where she is?" Joseph yelled at his colleague and fought his aggressiveness down. "She's your Queen and it was your watch! How could you miss her?"

"I went to the toi…"

"Oh shut up! Has anyone else seen her?"

"As I told you… the maid told me she left the house before 7 and the boy who cleaned the stables said she just saddled her horse and left for a ride…"

The young man stumbled nervously but Joe didn't have the time to bother with that. They would discuss the matter later.

"Alone? He let her leave just like that? Am I surrounded by idiots?" Joe was furious and pushed the other man aside, rushing downstairs. In the hallway he ran into Henry DeLesseps who was already shoving his jacket around his shoulders.

"Did you see her?" Joe barked as he approached him.

"No."

"It's not her style to run away like this… and since I haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon the only one who can know something is you!"

Joe gave Henry a dangerous glare. His eyes sparkled with rage while he tried to read the Lord's face. Henry cleared his throat.

"When we parted last night, she was fine… a bit nervous but fine."

"Nervous?" Joe asked suspiciously.

"Yes, nervous… and I doubt I was the reason for it!"

For a few moments both men simply stared at one another and then Joseph gave up and said: "Whatever, we have to find her… I guess she knows these grounds. Where could she have gone?"

"Maybe the lake… or the old cottage… we have several places around here…" Henry explained now clearly worried himself.

"So where is the lake?"

"Five miles from here… in south-west."

"Okay… you take this competent colleague of mine and go to that cottage, I try to get to the lake. If you find her, send him after me! If we haven't found her in two hours we'll call the Police or possibly some of your friends at the MI5."

Joe slammed the door behind him and stepped out into the sunny cold. His mind was raving and his heart pumped in his chest like an overworked drum. What in god's name could have driven her to escape the house and his attention? He knew she loved her freedom but she wasn't a stupid, adolescent schoolgirl who played games… Whatever had brought her to leave the house in the early morning must have been something very disturbing.

***1985***

The first thing she realized was the feeling of something wet pressed against her face and some hard stones she felt beneath her. Then her head started to ache. For a few moments she simply lay still. When she tried to move an even worse pain in her head made her stop. She groaned but lifted herself up to sit. Slowly her memory returned. She must have lost consciousness and then had fallen from her horse which still stood a few meters away from her, grazing peacefully.

"Oh God…" Another flash of pain hit her, causing a wave of nausea. She lowered her head again, desperately hoping she didn't have to throw up. She drew a deep breath and felt hot tears of shame, pain and sadness running over her cheek.

***1985***

He hated the endless green around him. If he ever found Clarisse Renaldi he would take her home whether her stupid horse was taken care of or not. After that he would leave the Palace of Genovia for good. He had already stayed too long, longer than in any other place before and when he thought about where it had gotten him, he knew it was time to leave.

He checked the direction of the sun again to make sure he still rode into the right direction. He hoped DeLesseps hadn't lied to him to play hero in front of Clarisse.

The advantage of the area was that one could see everything. The lake was nearby yet he couldn't see a woman on a horse…

***1985***

Unconvinced it would help a thing Joseph decided to check the area around the lake. He kept checking his watch frequently and knew he would have to return soon, because with every passing minute the chance to find Clarisse weakened. On the other hand, he was sure she hadn't been kidnapped. She had left the mansion on her own… Delesseps had told him she had been nervous last night… actually she had also been when he talked to her but he had blamed himself for making her uncomfortable with his presence. However, if she just needed some time to herself why did he have such a bad feeling? A feeling that worsened the longer he searched for her?

He sighed and stretched. His muscles had tensed and he felt the pain getting the best of him. He turned his head and all of the sudden he noticed a horse grazing close to a tree. A lonely horse. He swallowed and his heart jumped nervously. He spurred his horse and chased down the meadow.

***1985***

She heard someone calling her name from afar. She was dizzy and didn't dare to move her head but then she rolled carefully on her back and stretched her arm up to wave as best as she could. A horse came quickly closer and she felt relief washing over her. She had gotten cold and couldn't control her shaking body. But far more important was that he came. At first she hadn't recognized the voice but then she realized it was Joseph.

"Your Majesty!" His voice was full of fear. It trembled to an extent that she felt more pity for him than for herself. She heard stumbling steps, someone slipping on the wet grass and then she felt his presence at her side. He grabbed her hand and touched her cheek.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty! Can you hear me?"

Her eyes flickered open and closed again. She didn't dare to nod and just gave his hand a weak squeeze.

"What's wrong?"

"My head…," she mumbled and groaned.

"You hit your head? Lay still…" He took off his jacket and covered her carefully with it. He cupped her cheek and tenderly brushed her face with his thumb. "You need a doctor. As quickly as possible… just don't fall asleep… do you listen to me? Don't fall asleep! I'll get help! Hold on. Please, hold on!"

He held her cheek for a few heartbeats longer and then rose from the muddy ground. His words echoed in her head, became a mantra and kept her conscious till the sound of an arriving helicopter reached her ear.

***1985***

Two days later

Rupert couldn't remember a time when he had felt more sick. When the call from England had reached him and Joseph had told him Clarisse was in a hospital he had immediately thought another attack had happened. But when he heard she had had an accident with her horse he couldn't believe it. Clarisse was an excellent rider and he couldn't really believe the version about her loyal horse having startled just like that and then throwing her off. But since he hadn't talked to her yet he hoped she would tell him the truth when she arrived back home.

Maybe it had been unfair to send Joseph with her but he needed to know what she would do, given the opportunity to be close to the man. DeLesseps wasn't an obstacle… just encouragement. It had been a test, a mean attempt to find out whether she would stay faithful to him. Seeing her and his trusted Head of Security together on various occasions had fed his insecurities and his jealousy to an extent that had driven him almost insane.

At first he had contemplated to fire Joseph and ban him to another continent but then he had realized that this way he would only feed her passion for him. His hope was that once she had confronted her feelings for Joseph she would turn away from him… passion subsided with time and fulfilment. He wouldn't even mind her having an affair – after all he had had his fun, until he had realized what really counted for him. As long as their relationship remained physical he could deal with it, but he was doubtful and after this "accident" his worries had increased. He sensed there was something more behind all this and he would find out what it was.

The telephone on his desk rang loudly, tearing him out of his thoughts. He checked his watch and picked up the receiver. It was time for Genovia One to arrive.

"Yes?"

"Sir, the plane has landed. They will be here in 20 minutes."

"Thank you, Carlos." He hung up and rose from his chair. Being the stubborn woman she was, Clarisse had of course refused to stay in hospital and had decided to go back to Genovia. All he could do was welcoming her and seeing with his own eyes whether his fears were justified.

***1985***

He watched the limousine stop from the big window next to the front door. Joseph opened the car door for Clarisse and helped her out. As expected she looked rather weak and pale. But he saw how she clung to Joseph's hand while climbing out of the vehicle.

Her Ladies' maids and two footmen whirred around Clarisse, offering her an umbrella, advice and even handkerchiefs. If he hadn't have been so tense, the situation would have amused him greatly.

He stepped outside and slowly approached the old staircase. He heard the hectic whispers of the staff and then one of the ladies maids' low scream when Clarisse touched her forehead and almost lost her balance. Unconsciously, he made a step forward and backed off instantly when he saw that Joseph had already caught her. Her arms were wrapped weakly around his neck as he picked her up effortlessly and carried her upstairs.

Against his better judgement Rupert didn't step aside and stopped Joseph at the top of the stairs.

"It's alright, Joseph. You can give her back now. I'll take care of my wife."

After some seconds of exchanging a silent glance Joseph nodded at the King and carefully placed Clarisse in his arms. He bowed and was dismissed before the King brought Clarisse into the Palace.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15  
**  
With the storm outside slowly subsiding, the storm within him faded as well. He had been writing on this letter for several hours and the urge to finish became stronger. He had already wasted enough time and the moment to admit his misdeeds had finally come.

He drew a deep breath he finished to sign the letter and before he put it into the envelope, he let his eyes roam over the last line…

_"With love, Pierre"_

Then he picked up the receiver of the old-fashioned telephone on Francesca's desk and dialled a number he had scribbled on a piece of paper. When the person on the other end finally answered the call, it took him a heartbeat or two before he found his voice: "This is Pierre Renaldi speaking… I think I need help."

***

The King's eyes were resting on his new desk while he reluctantly listened to Prime Minister Motaz' suggestions. It bothered him endlessly that Clarisse had gotten her way and had involved the Prime Minister in her plans. It was no secret that she was angry with the man and apparently her fury had tamed the politician.

"I think her Majesty's offer is quite generous… as you suggested it, your common duties will remain shared by both of you – in both fields. Your political and social power won't be harmed. The only change will be her Majesty's unofficial residence. She gets the Winter Palace, an extended allowance and therefore she guarantees you her support in Parliament."

Finally finished, Motaz leaned back and waited for the King's answer while Clarisse sat next to him without moving a muscle. Her plan was risky but better than staying under the same roof with him. She needed time and space to think. If she wanted to strike back she needed a place where he wouldn't be able to control her.

"To me this sounds like a separation arrangement instead of an agreement between a married couple," the King argued and threw the sheet onto the desk. Motaz quickly bent forward and caught it before it ended up on the floor.

"This is not acceptable," the King hissed and looked at Clarisse. "Do you really believe, the Genovian public will accept it when its Queen lives at the other end of the country somewhere in the mountains while its King stays lonely in the Palace?"

"We don't have to make it public knowledge. As long as we appear together at important public functions and smile nobody will suspect a thing… the press we can keep quiet, if we talk to the right people… " She shrugged unimpressed and added "Besides, we lived like that for a very long time. Why not again?" Clarisse raised her eyebrow. Amusement glittered in her eyes. The challenge behind her demand was obvious, but he had no intention to let her get away with it. Too much depended on her cooperation.

"My answer is no. Our shared home is the Palace and Genovia needs stability after the latest events. Your relationship with a common criminal has harmed the crown enough. I won't allow you to cause more damage."

"So far it is not proven that the Duke has murdered anyone," Motaz objected harshly.

"The trial will begin tomorrow and then we'll see who is right and who is wrong on this subject." The King smiled at Clarisse. "I just hope that you'll desist from paying him another nightly visit in prison. I would regret to see a picture of you sneaking to him at night in the morning paper."

She repaid his ugly remark with a cold glance. If possible her posture became even stiffer.

"In the latest dispatches I received, I read you intend to make a motion about a new trade agreement with France and eventually with Spain… you worked quite fast… but wouldn't it be a pity if Parliament didn't agree with your plans because you can't get the needed majority?"

The King narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I don't see why we should change the current agreements… our economy is stable and our export numbers have developed positively due to our connections to Asia… I don't see why we shouldn't continue with that and depend on France and the old continent."

"I know the French are interested in a close connection to Genovia… France was once our mother country. Why not develop a new kind of closeness between us? I certainly hope Parliament will reconsider the idea."

"We're close enough to France, because we share a border with it," Clarisse stated coolly.

"Her Majesty has a point here. But of course… with some cooperation from our side, Parliament could reconsider its opinion about the France matter… Although the international market is important to us. The Chinese love our silk, you know…," Motaz said meaningfully.

Clarisse could read in his face that he was furious. Actually, she wasn't sure what to make of his motion but his reaction showed how important the matter was to him. And his problem was her advantage.

"You'll regret that. If you haven't left the Palace in 24 hours, don't even think about moving out! If you'll excuse me now…" He whirled his chair around, turning his back on them.

With winning smiles on their faces Clarisse and the Prime Minister left the room. In the hallway Motaz finally found the courage to talk to Clarisse although she didn't bother to give him the time on her way back to her suite.

"That went quite well, Ma'am. Don't you think so?"

Clarisse stopped and turned to Sebastian. The anger towards him had not subsided. It was as present as the day before when he hadn't done a thing to stop the man from taking over the throne.

"If you think the situation is any more acceptable now, you're wrong, Sebastian! So far we haven't accomplished a thing and if you don't want that man to destroy this country, you better make sure that Parliament won't agree to any of his motions! No matter whom he tries to impress with his economical calculations! Whatever it is he wants to accomplish, it seems much more important to him than the coronation. So, make sure he won't get what he wants!"

She turned on her heels and quickly went down the hallway. Motaz stayed where he was, wisely not following her. He had failed her yesterday, he knew that. But if he was true to himself, he had to admit that he hadn't known what else to do. The King had proven he was the King… and even if he knew it couldn't be Rupert Renaldi himself, he had no choice but to keep silent about the truth.

***

_Clarisse sighed as she rose from her lying position on the couch and the book dropped from her lap onto the floor. She had fallen asleep again although she had intended to read a novel. It had been one week since the doctor had allowed her to leave her bed but her head was still aching every now and then. She cursed herself for her stupidity and the circumstances that had brought her into this painful state, but done was done and now she had to live with it._

_Rupert had reluctantly gone to Paris the evening before, after one week of hardly leaving her side. He had been so worried about her, so tender and she was still disgusted with herself because she felt like deceiving him. She hadn't told him her fall from the horse hadn't been a simple accident. She had kept silent about the fact that she had been close to a nervous breakdown because of her feelings for another man. A man he trusted and appreciated._

_Now that he had left she felt a little better, because she didn't have to force herself to be fine, but she couldn't go on like this. She had never been able to live a lie. It ached to know Joseph was around while she couldn't be with him._

_She hadn't seen him, hadn't talked to him since he had carried her up the staircase after she had felt too dizzy the other week._

_Being physically apart from him made her head clearer but her heart desired a simple word from him. It desired a touch of his hand and a look from loving eyes. Didn't the poets say that once passion made room for the simple things in life a close one had to offer, love actually arrived? Were the poets right and she was already deeply in love although she had convinced herself all those years that true love wasn't meant for her?_

_The telephone rang, forcing her to come back to reality. She rose from the couch to answer the call._

_"Yes, Christine?… Carlos? Yes, please put him through…" She waited until she heard her husband's assistant's trembling voice._

_"Your Majesty… I have bad news for you."_

_"What happened?" Instantly she felt her stomach turn into a stone. Her heartbeat increased by the second and she searched for a hold at her desk._

_"It's His Majesty… he collapsed at lunch. They brought him to the Hospital. I'm here with him, waiting for news."_

_"Oh my god…," she sighed nervously and felt tears rising. "I'll come to Paris!" she said before she was actually aware of the words that escaped her mouth._

_"Wait, Ma'am... I don't know. Maybe it's nothing… it could be a food poisoning…," he tried to reassure her. "There's no need to overreact."_

_But she didn't want to hear anything about it. When she spoke again her voice was more confident than she actually felt._

_"I said I'm on my way, Carlos. Expect me to arrive this evening!"_

_***_

In the middle of the chaos of empty boxes that were spread across the room, Clarisse stood at her already cleared desk and was tempted to forget all etiquette and curse audibly. But since she expected a certain someone to appear every second, she did her best to keep her emotions in check. The man had some nerve. About ten seconds ago a footman had left after he had given her a bunch of red roses and a card from the King.

Just as the day he had arrived it contained his signature and "With all my love". She crumpled the card in her fist and let it drop on the desk.

"Bastard!"

Her ladies' maid Olivia came rushing into the room and cleared her throat shyly: "Your Majesty?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you want to take everything with you?"

"If I remember correctly, I told you so." She knew she wasn't nice, but she was too annoyed to be polite. She needed to leave this place or she would go insane.

"But Ma'am… we don't have enough suitcases for you clothes."

"Then use boxes… anything you can find. Nothing will stay here that belongs to me. Is that understood? Where is Shades?"

"I don't know, Ma'am."

"Then find out where he is… he will have to supervise the moving! I don't want any piece to be lost!"

"Yes, Ma'am." Olivia curtsied and left again.

Clarisse sighed and massaged her temples with her fingers. A long day lied ahead of her before she would have moved into her new residence.

***  
_It was already dark in Paris when Clarisse arrived at the airport. The whole time Joseph had been at her side. They had avoided to talk and only faced each other if necessary. The whole situation was awkward and both were tense but Clarisse tried to push her feelings for Joseph aside and concentrate on Rupert. She had no idea what was wrong with him and the uncertainty was hard to bear._

_Now she sat in the back of a limousine bringing her to the hospital. Joseph had taken the opposite seat avoiding her gaze. Her eyes followed the streetlights of Paris._

_"He's going to be fine," Joe said into the silence. Surprised Clarisse turned her head. Their eyes met as she asked: "How can you know?"_

_"I doubt he's ready to leave you any time soon."_

_*** _

"I'm sorry, Milady, but Her Majesty isn't here," the guard at the gate told Frankie, handing her the ID card.

"Oh…," she said dumbfounded. "So… maybe you can ask her assistant to talk to me? It's urgent. I have something I need to give her in person."

"I'm sorry, but Miss Kutaway isn't present either."

"I see." The situation annoyed her and she sighed. Of course, she could try to reach the Queen by talking to her father but she didn't feel like asking him for a favour. Before he had vanished, Pierre's request had been simple and direct. He wanted the letter to reach his mother as quickly as possible.

She bit her lower lip for a moment… an idea that had occupied her brain for some time was returning. Maybe Clarisse's absence was the perfect opportunity to try something else, even though she didn't know if she had the guts to go through with it. She was in for a fall anyway, if somebody ever found out what she was going to do…

Again she addressed the guard: "So...may I speak to his Majesty? It's really urgent!"

"You want to speak to him?" the guard asked in astonishment.

"Yes. Please ask him to welcome me… only for a few minutes." She held her breath and waited. The guard made a quick call and to her enormous surprise, he let her in.

"Wait at the front door. Someone will you escort you!"

***

_Rupert felt a reassuring hand caressing his arm and opened his eyes. They met a pair of lively green ones, which caused him to smile._

_"You?" he asked bewildered and tried to sit up._

_"No, don't move… you had a little collapse, caused from stress and overwork." The hand squeezed his shoulder and pushed him back into the mattress._

_"It was hardly work which caused my blood pressure to do the roller coaster," Rupert sighed and touched his aching forehead._

_"I saw the papers. I'm sorry."_

_Rupert shook his head. "Don't be… it's not your fault. It's not even her fault."_

_Before he had sat down with the French secretary of state for lunch, Carlos had shown him some French tabloids to prepare him for some ugly questions in case some journalists dared to ask. Apparently a French paparazzo had shot some pictures of Clarisse shortly after her accident in England. Joe was supporting her when she left DeLesseps' mansion. Their bodies were touching. His hand lay on her hip. She was leaning against him. In its kind manner the press had waited for his arrival to publish the photos. Seeing the obvious on the front paper had caused his pulse to race and had made him physically sick until he couldn't take it any longer and broke down._

_"Are you saying, she isn't screwing that man?"_

_"No, she isn't," Rupert answered pressed and swallowed. "Not yet, at least."_

_"The doctor told me, she's on her way… maybe I show go. Otherwise, she might throw something at me again."_

_*** _

"Now, that's a surprise." The King smiled broadly at Francesca as he opened the French doors for her. "Come in."

A little surprised about his kindness, she made a formal bow and entered the room.

"Can I offer you something? Tea, coffee… something stronger?" he asked while leading her into his living room. He helped her to get out of her coat and placed it over the back of the couch.

"I wouldn't mind a glass of Brandy. It's pretty cold outside."

"Take a seat, my dear."

Francesca looked around. The suite was renovated and the furniture was rare, expensive and new. A pleasant fire flickered in the fireplace and a couple of files were spread over the coffee table.

"I see, I disturb you," she remarked while trying to get a glimpse of the papers. The King returned and gave her the glass. Then he sat down on the opposite couch, closed the files and put his own glass on one of them. She gave him a direct smile and leaned back.

"You have a very nice suite for yourself," she said, toasting at him.

"Thank you. It's not the suite I intended to stay in but I had no other choice, if I wanted to have a place in my home."

"You really created a chain reaction with your latest moves…" Her voice trailed off, leaving space for him to catch up.

"I did what I had to do."

"Well, not everyone in Genovia agrees with you… your wife, for example."

"The Queen, my wife, will come around. It's only a matter of time." He smiled confidently and sipped from his drink. Then he bent forward and asked curiously: "Forgive me, Francesca, but what brings you here… as far as I know, you tried everything to prove that I'm not King Rupert."

Frankie cleared her throat and smiled embarrassedly: "Oh, Your Majesty… that's actually the reason, I'm here." She played with a strand of her hair, putting it nervously behind her ear. "I just don't know how to say it…"

"I'm all ears, Francesca."

"You know I was convinced that a dead person can't return… I didn't believe in your story about your decease and I did some research…" She gave him a shy glance then lowered her eyes again. "Anyway… I know now, you weren't lying. The DNA test proved it and your looks… well, you look like King Rupert… the way I remember him. Active, good-looking… I'm sorry, for my behaviour in Parliament. I was wrong."

The King leaned back. She could read in his face he was evaluating her words. This performance of hers was the key to her plan. If it worked, they stood a chance to defeat him. If he didn't believe her, she had failed and God knew what would happen afterwards.

"Where does this sudden change of heart come from? It must be more than factual evidence that changed your mind," he said suspiciously. "So?"

"Let's say I know when I lost a battle… and I know when it's time to switch to the winning team. I once made the mistake to turn my back on the Genovian Royal Family… I don't intend to do it again."

"I see. Well, I always liked you… you would have been a great wife to my oldest son." He let his eyes roam her face and down her neck to the point where her cleavage showed. "And a beautiful Queen… so, maybe you can help me."

"Why not?" she offered generously, bending forward a little so that he had a better view into her blouse.

"Maybe you could talk to her Majesty about this matter… she is still reluctant to listen to me. You know a heart-to-heart from one woman to the other can work miracles!"

Francesca raised her eyebrow. "You want me to talk to her? On your behalf?"

"Yes… you know, she moved out this afternoon and that doesn't agree with my idea of marriage." He gave her a long, meaningful glance. The news surprised Francesca deeply. She hadn't even thought that Clarisse could leave the Palace.

"And where is she now?"

"In the Winter Palace… maybe she is having dinner with your father right now."

"The Winter Palace," she repeated in shock. "Seems as if she intends to get as far away from you as possible."

"At least for now… she'll change her mind. I know my wife."

"Well, let's hope she will…" Frankie took another sip from her glass and rose from the couch. When she sank down next to him, her arm brushed his. She gave him a smile and toasted to him. "If she won't change her mind… I know somebody who would be suitable to take her place."

"And who could that be?" he asked provocatively. "Someone with political experience and knowledge… I know you always liked me," she answered boldly, leaning towards him.

"I did… I still do, but I'm an old man… I'm not sure, you know what you're saying."

"Maybe you shouldn't think so much about age… and think about all the lonely years you missed out on a willing woman." She bit her lower lip, allowing him a glimpse of her tongue while she pushed it against her teeth and lips. "Think about it while I talk to your wife."

Again, she 'innocently' pressed her body against his, letting him feel her curves, before she rose from the couch. She picked up her coat and left the suite, and knowing his eyes followed her, she walked slowly, deliberately moving her hips…

***

Freezing from the inside, Clarisse stood in front of the fireplace and stared into the flames, clutching the old piece of paper in her hand, contemplating to burn it once and for all.

It was almost midnight and she was too agitated to find any peace. Today she had left the Palace that had been her home for over 40 years. She knew this wasn't the end but she hated change. The Winter Palace was lonely and cold but compared to the Palace and the vision of that sick man breaking into her bedroom, the loneliness here was heaven.

When she checked the contents of several boxes to see if everything had safely arrived, she had made the mistake of taking out an old diary of hers. The lock had been rusty but with the help of her old locket she could open it. And with the diary she had opened Pandora's box.

What really cut her heart weren't her old entries which spoke from the heartache of finding out that Rupert was being unfaithful to her. What hurt was seeing and holding the evidence for his betrayal though the paper was old, wrinkled and threatened to fall apart. The letters on the old advertisement had partly vanished and the colours of the picture had faded. Now it was just a memory.

"Penelope," she mumbled and a sudden rage overwhelmed her. She crumbled the sheet in her hands as if it would erase the pain of those years and threw it into the fire. The flames took possession of the old paper, consuming it greedily.

***

_With Joseph at her side, Clarisse made her way down the hallway. She had already spoken to Rupert's doctor and convinced herself of what Joseph had already told her. Rupert wasn't ready to go yet._

_It was late and if she hadn't been who she was, nobody would have allowed her to pay Rupert a late-night visit. Only a few nurses were passing her on her way to her husband's room and most of them frowned at her impressive sight and jerked aside._

_If Clarisse hadn't been so lost in her thoughts she would have noticed the one pair of eyes that wasn't looking at her in utter disbelief and amazement but with hate and disgust._

_"Are you sure, you don't want to leave for Genovia as soon as possible? You can come back to Paris, when you've recovered!" Clarisse said worriedly and caressed his forehead with the back of her hand._

_"I'm not an invalid, Clarisse. The doctor said I'm fine… I just need a little rest."_

_"Rest is what I'm talking about! We bring you home tomorrow and…"_

_"Clarisse", he interrupted her warningly. "I'm fine… believe me, when I tell you that your head is still in worse condition than my heart!" he joked and forced a smile. He wasn't sure, if it was true that his heart was still in order._

_"Very funny… so, you're denying me the opportunity to nurse you back to health?"_

_"Exactly."_

_She laughed lowly and caressed his cheek. "You scared me, you know," Clarisse admitted emotionally. Giving her a smile took her hand into his and placed a tender kiss on it._

_"I know and I'm sorry."_

_"Don't… just do me a favour and start to pass on some responsibilities to Philippe… or to me. You work too much."_

_Rupert sighed and shook his head. "Philippe is still young. I can burden him with responsibilities after he has found a suitable wife and produced an heir… You know what would be a much bigger help for me?"_

_"Tell me."_

_"A kiss… you haven't kissed me since your arrival." He caressed her cheek with his thumb, the twinkle in his eyes causing her to smile._

_"You're impossible…"_

_"Show me."_

_She bent over and brushed his lips with hers. She backed off a little, trying to read his eyes. Seeing the tenderness in them let her heart swell. She whispered his name, lowered her mouth to his and let herself getting carried away as their mouths melded passionately._

_The blood in his veins started boiling when glanced through the small window in the hospital door and witnessed the tender reunion of the royal couple. He feared his heart would break at the sight of them, caught in a tight embrace with Rupert's hand wandering over her spine, over her bottom to her thigh under the seam of her skirt. Seeing how much he actually desired her, cut like a knife through his heart. His hand became a fist and before he could storm into the room, he turned away…_

__

"Forgot something…," he mumbled, passing one of the Genovian security men on his way to the elevator.

***

Some time later Clarisse left Rupert's room. Joseph rose from his chair, ready to escort her to her hotel.

"How's his Majesty?" he asked truly concerned. "Much better," Clarisse answered. "I think he'll leave the hospital tomorrow."

"That's good news. I guess we'll leave for Genovia as soon as he is released?"

"Actually, his Majesty insists on staying here in Paris because he still has some unfinished business to accomplish," Clarisse explained and drew a deep breath.

"What? He just had a collapse!" Joe argued in disbelief.

"I know… but that's what he told me. I couldn't convince him to fly home. That means I'll stay here with him for a few days. Will you do me the favour and talk to Carlos about the details?"

"Of course, Ma'am."

They approached the elevator and Joe pushed the button. He would have to spend the next few days with Clarisse and her husband in the city of love. He groaned with dissatisfaction, forgetting she was still standing next to him.

"Excuse me?" she asked confusedly.

"Nothing, Ma'am."

The elevator doors opened and a male nurse stepped out, carrying a tray filled with injections and small bottles. He almost ran into Clarisse but Joe quickly pulled her aside.

"Excuse me…" he said quickly and their eyes met for a second. Clarisse felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She knew those eyes, she knew this voice… older of course, but still filled with the same hate as 10 years ago… of course, she knew him. She whirled around and witnessed the nurse going into Rupert's room.

"Joseph… who is the man?"

"The nurse!

"Yes! What's his name?"

"Etienne, I think…"

"Make sure, he won't continue to take care of Rupert!" she ordered sharply. Joe looked at her dumbfounded. "But why? Do you know him?"

"Do what I say… make sure he won't have any further contact with my husband! And don't ask me why, just do it! Understood?"

Joe nodded, still surprised about her harshness, but he had understood.

_***_

This was his big day. Joe fixed his tie and checked his appearance in the dirty mirror in his cell. If he was lucky, he didn't have to see this place again. If he was unlucky, that being much more possible, the effort was for nothing.

All he could now was waiting for the guard to pick him up. Maybe, the vehicle reserved to bring him to the courthouse had already arrived and he would catch a glimpse of daylight soon.

***

_If everything in his life had been as easy as sneaking into the room at night, costumed as his alter ego, he wouldn't have lost Rupert in the first place. The guard had been easily fooled when he had told him his Majesty needed another injection._

_As gently as possible he shook Rupert awoke. "Rupert?"_

_"Hm…" He knew the doctor had insisted on giving him a sleeping pill for the night because for a man who should rest, Rupert was too agitated. Therefore, he was drowsy and didn't really notice who was talking to him._

_"Was she really worth it? I saw her with him… she doesn't love you. Not the way I did."_

_He hesitated for a moment and then he lifted the blanket and pushed the needle into the flesh of his hip and pulled it out again._

_"Sweet dreams. Wherever you go, you'll take her with you."_

***

At least it wasn't raining when two guards brought him out of the jailhouse to the police van. He just wished he didn't have to carry the handcuffs in front of the crowd of paparazzi. Many of them he knew from his job as Head of Security. He had pissed off many of them while guarding Clarisse from their curious glances and today they finally had the opportunity to repay him. He gave them a smile and a wave before he climbed into the van.

His smile faded instantly when he realized he wasn't alone. An old, familiar face grinned at him as the door behind him closed and was locked. "What are you doing here?" he asked tonelessly.

"I'm here to make you an offer, you can't refuse."


	17. Chapter 16

**I know it took some time, but here's anew chapter. Have fun and thanks for your wonderful reviews! **

**Chapter 16**

She hadn't slept well. All she could think was the trial that lied ahead of Joseph. The Genovian TV station was broadcasting his arrival at the courthouse, as Priscilla had told her, but she wasn't sure she wanted to see it. It would break her heart to see Joseph brought into the building, wearing handcuffs like some common criminal.

"Your Majesty?" Olivia came in, carrying a bunch of roses in her arms. "For you," she said and offered her the bouquet. Clarisse raised her eyebrow as she glimpsed the small card within the flowers.

"I don't take any flowers from this man. Throw them away or bring them somewhere where I don't have to see them!"

"Yes, Ma'am," Olivia bowed and added. "Charlotte just called. She said she'll come back today. Her car should arrive in the afternoon."

"At last," Clarisse sighed and gave Olivia a quick smile. "Thank you, Olivia."

Olivia curtsied obediently and left the room.

***

"What is going on here?" Joe asked angrily when they were finally alone. He had no idea how the Lord had accomplished it, but instead of standing in front of a judge, he found himself in a comfortable living room in a mansion. It was filled with exquisite furniture and although he couldn't exactly say where he was, estimating from the time it had taken them, the house was located about 15 miles from Pyrus.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"A very good question." Henry nodded and offered him a seat. "But before we talk about your future, I want to offer you a drink. You look as if you need one!"

He went to the bar and started to fill two glasses with brown liquid from a carafe. When he returned he offered Joe one who refused to take the glass.

"It's not poisoned," Henry laughed but Joe didn't move a muscle and simply looked on. Realizing Joe wouldn't play along the way he wanted, Henry put his glass aside and drank from his own.

"I can understand you want answers but please… let us be polite. We haven't been very successful on this in the past, but maybe we can improve."

"I ask you again, why am I here?"

"You're here because otherwise the friends of your new King would first convict you, then ban you and after that kill you."

"What makes you so interested in my well-being?" Joe asked suspiciously.

"You're close to someone I deeply care for and it's my wish to see this person happy."

"What has Clarisse to do with this?" Joe asked, now alarmed. Was she involved in this?

DeLesseps shook his head, chuckling lowly. "Oh, it wasn't Clarisse, I was talking about… I'm speaking of my daughter."

***

_"I'm not sure this is what the doctor ordered," Clarisse sighed as her hand caressed Rupert's bare chest. How her husband never failed to seduce her when he wanted to, was beyond her. He was more like a best friend than her husband, but when it came to sex, he always proved that she couldn't resist him._

"The doctor didn't tell me to stay chaste when I asked him before he allowed me to leave the hospital," Rupert answered with a smirk. Her jaw dropped and she hit his arm. "You asked him? What will he think of us?"

"He'll think we're a normal, healthy couple… which we are to some extent." He gently pulled her above him and cupped her face with his hands. She raised her eyebrow.

"To some extent? Is there something you want to tell me?"

"I was hoping there was something you'd want to tell me…" He stretched his hand out, opened the drawer and pulled out a folded piece of a newspaper. "Do you read French rags every once in a while?"

Sensing nothing good, she rolled away and unfolded the piece of paper. Once she saw the pictures of her and Joseph, she closed her eyes and felt the colour of her cheeks turning into a deep red. Her hands started trembling as she tried to justify herself: "I know how this looks but believe me nothing ever happened…"

"I know that," he reassured her. He took the front page out of her hand and crumbled it in his fist before throwing it on the floor. "I know you didn't cheat on me, but we both know it's only a matter of time before something happens between you and him. I'm not blind, Clarisse."

Embarrassed Clarisse pulled the sheet over her breasts, sat up against the head of the bed and crossed her arms in a protective manner.

"Why do you say this now, after we…"

"Because I needed to know something."

"And what?" she asked harshly.

"I wanted to know, if your feelings for him have changed yours for me," he admitted and sat up as well. He sighed when he leaned against the back of the bed. "I'm not even sure I know what I'm doing here… I only know the two of us have a problem."

"Please don't…," she said lowly, turning her face away.

"Yes, I will…Look, if you really want him, I can't change it…but I can demand a little more discretion from you. It's not exactly pleasant to see this kind of pictures of you and our bodyguard while having lunch with the French President."

"Discretion from me?!" she repeated in disbelief. Turning her head to him she scoffed, suddenly disgusted with him and their situation. Who was he to talk? Who was he to tell her how to behave in a marriage? Although she had always avoided it, she knew it was time to name all the things she had expected from him when she became his wife.

"_You demand discretion from me after you let a certain someone play your nurse in the hospital?"_

Henry emptied his glass while Joe watched his every movement. "What has Francesca to do with this?"

"That's what I'm asking you… it's amazing to see how much my daughter is involved in this whole affair and to me the only explanation is that she's making all this effort for you. I don't know what she sees in you but it seems to be enough to keep her head in the clouds."

As always when he got into an argument with DeLesseps, Joe was close to lose his temper. "There's nothing between your daughter and me. Clarisse is the only woman I love and now I want to know, if she is aware of what you're doing here!"

"No, of course not. She has enough on her mind with the upcoming coronation, her moving out of the Palace and some difficult political issues," Henry told him casually.

"What do you mean… she moved out of the Palace?"

Henry gave him a smile. "Her new residence is the Winter Palace… actually she asked me to be her guest there. I think she needs someone to rely on."

Joe scoffed. "Which brings me back to my first question… why am I here? I expected you to ensure I would stay in prison, but instead you kidnap me… why?"

"You know," Henry started pacing the room, "The one thing I really admire about you is your intelligence… I know you couldn't kill someone. You don't have the makings of a cold-blooded killer. You may chase after a rich, titled and married woman until she gives in but you wouldn't pound someone's brain out of his head. You don't deserve to go to prison for that."

"But…"

"No but. I'm willing to give you your freedom. Even a new life…a new passport, a new identity and a bank account filled with enough money to ensure a very good life in a South American country. All you have to do to receive all this, is leaving Genovia and your new titled position for good."

***

Nervously Frankie played with the envelope in her hand. She had no idea what Pierre had written in his letter to his mother and although she knew it wasn't exactly her business, she would love to know the contents. He had refused to talk to her about his problems although she had tried her best to get to the core of everything. But maybe he trusted his mother enough to tell her.

"So, why did you make it so urgent?" Clarisse asked when Frankie didn't start the conversation. "Do you have news about our common friend?"

"Actually no, Ma'am, but I expect to receive some important information tonight."

"That would be wonderful… you know, I'm scared for Joseph."

Frankie lowered her eyelashes and nodded slowly. "I can understand that. The whole situation is scaring."

"Why don't we have some tea?" Clarisse asked and offered Frankie a seat by the fireplace where two cups and the tea pot were already waiting on a small coffee table. Frankie took the invitation and sat down. She waited until Clarisse had poured the tea before she offered her the envelope.

"Pierre asked me to give you this," she explained as Clarisse took the letter. "I don't know its contents."

"When did he give it you?" Clarisse asked bewildered and opened it hectically.

"Yesterday… he stayed in my house after I chased him down in a dirty apartment in Pyrus." Clarisse's jaw dropped, but Frankie didn't stop and added quickly: "He stayed with me, because we weren't sure those people wouldn't search for him… I had the feeling that it would be better for him, if no one knew where he was. Actually, I'm still under the impression that he has a lot of problems… I don't know where he is now."

"What kind of problems?" Clarisse asked and stopped her work on the letter.

"I don't know… maybe drugs." Seeing the shocked expression on Clarisse' face, Frankie continued and said: "On my desk, I found the telephone number of a very highly recommended private clinic in France, near Paris. I guess that's where he left for."

"Are you sure?" Clarisse asked alarmed.

"No… but we have to hope he came to his senses and tries to get some help."

Without having tasted her tea, Frankie rose from her chair, ready to leave. "I think I'll better leave you alone now. I'll call you, as soon as I hear something."

She curtsied and Clarisse dismissed her with a fake smile to hide her worries. "Thank you, Francesca."

"No need to thank me."

Frankie left and Clarisse rose from the chair, unfolding the narrowly-written letter. She leaned against the window frame and started reading her son's letter.

_Dear Mama,_  
Clarisse was so enraptured by the letter that she didn't notice the hectic steps which approached her.

when you read these lines, I'll already be on my way to France to place myself into the care of people who will hopefully help me to get my life and my head in order.

It's very hard to explain what is going on with me, since I don't understand it myself.  
If it is the medication my doctor in France gave me under the pretence of controlling my diabetes or if something else is responsible for my blackouts, the sudden headaches and my bad temper, I can't say. I only know it's time to fight the demons that have possessed me for the last few weeks.

Please, don't try to contact me. I'm not sure I could bear it, considering all the terrible things I've said to you. My support for the man was motivated by my love for my father, but after talking to Francesca who forced to me to acknowledge some facts, I've come to the conclusion that I should have trusted your judgement. I'm deeply sorry for everything.

May God bless you.

With love, Pierre

"Your Majesty?" Clarisse whirled around as Charlotte's nervous voice reached her ear.

"Charlotte? When did you arrive?"

"5 Minutes ago, but on my way I heard some shocking news on the radio. It's about His Highness, the Duke of Pyrus."

"I know the trial…." Clarisse started but Charlotte shook her head. "There was no trial. The press isn't sure, but it seems Joseph never reached the court."

***

_As the limousine stopped in the small street behind the nightclub, Clarisse fixed the collar of her suit jacket and pulled her hat a little further down so that it covered more of her face.  
Joe who drove the car looked into the mirror and said: "I wish you wouldn't do that. This part of the city isn't exactly safe and if someone recognises you…"_

"No one will recognise me, because no one is expecting to see me here!" she explained sharply.

"Maybe, but still… You can't ask me to let you go inside this… etablissement without any protection."

"But I insist on it," she sighed and bent forward. "Please, Joseph, I asked you to drive me, because you're the only person I can trust. No one can ever know I was here. Not the King, not the press. I promise I'll be back in less than 15 minutes."

Joe chewed on the inside of his mouth. He had a bad feeling about this, he feared for her safety and he couldn't imagine what on earth she could want in such a shady club. "Please Joseph, if I'm not back in 15 minutes, you can follow me."

Reluctantly, he accepted the deal. "Alright."

"Thank you."

_Every fibre of her body hated to be in such a disgusting environment. The dressing room was in a messy state. The wallpaper was dirty, the mirror broken and the dust on the furniture seemed older than her children. Cold cigarette smoke hung in the air and made it hard to breathe._

Just as he had calculated the house where Delesseps had brought him wasn't far away from the Winter Palace. Actually, he knew the way to the old castle by heart and he estimated it would take him half an hour to reach it. Since DeLesseps had kidnapped him, the whole world would think he had escaped and so he could behave like a criminal and try to sneak into the Palace to talk to Clarisse. The two guards the Lord had placed in front of his door had been a joke and easy to overwhelm.

The only thing that mattered to him right now was to get to the Palace to see Clarisse. She needed to know what Delesseps was suggesting and that he did everything in his power to break them apart. Even if that meant he had to tell Clarisse the truth about him and Frankie… she may not forgive him but at least she would hear it from him and not from a man who only wanted to possess her.

***

Clarisse was staring into the flames, biting her thumb while she desperately tried to calm her nerves. She had refused to have dinner with Henry and had locked herself up in her bedroom so that she could sit on the carpet in front of the fireplace and wallow in her misery alone.

The news of Joseph's disappearance had shaken her to the core. She had tried to reach Motaz to get some information but he didn't know a thing about the incident and apparently the Police had no idea either. All they knew was that not even the vehicle Joseph climbed into belonged to the Police.

Of course a search warrant was issued immediately, but so far not even the car had been found. What could have gone wrong? Who was behind all this and why Joseph?  
The day had taken its toll on her. Whoever, Francesca, Pierre, Joseph… they all were on her mind, making it impossible to relax.

Pierre's letter was still stuck in her fist. She had read it over and over again, had wet it with her tears, asking herself if she, as his mother, was to blame for his problems. Maybe, her sons had noticed more about her relationship with Rupert than she had realized. Perhaps, they had felt how miserable things had been between them. Maybe, she had been a fool to believe her children wouldn't be affected by the way she and Rupert had chosen to live. Now, Philippe was dead and Pierre far away from her.

All this was spinning around in her head while the fire warmed her face. It was comfort and dried her tears. She let the letter drop on the floor and closed her eyes, regulating her breath.

It wouldn't help Joseph or her son, if she went mad about all this. She had had to be strong quite often in her life, now it was time to be strong again.

While she did her best to install this new mantra in her head, it slipped her attention that someone had managed to open her bedroom door with the help of the universal key, stolen out of Shades' pockets. The dark figure approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her …

***

"What do you mean they have lost him?" The man stared into the lights of the City of London down at his feet.

"It seems His Highness never made it to court. Someone helped him escape," the other, younger man answered.

"Will this ruin our plans?"

"That depends on the responsible person. The plan was to get rid off the bishop and Ramirez together."

The man by the window shrugged. "We might never hear of Ramirez again. What bothers me is the Queen. She's pretty stubborn. We need her support in Parliament for the business with France."

"Well, let's hope our man can make a deal with her."

"Then talk to him! Tell him to hurry with everything! The sooner we have that contract with France, the sooner we'll be able to dictate them our conditions. It's time to finish our task!"

***

At first she had been paralysed when a couple of arms had wrapped around her. Her instant scream had been squelched by a warm hand covering her mouth and then utter relief flooded her when she recognized the well-known wedding band on his finger.

She turned to him, his hand left her mouth and tears shot into her eyes when she finally could look into those beloved eyes of his.

"Joseph!… Joseph… " she mumbled still shocked and threw herself into his arms. "What happened to you? I was so worried when Charlotte told me you had vanished!"

"I'm sorry," he said throatily. He pressed her to him, held her tightly and closed his eyes, revelling in the sweet scent of hers. Being so close to her was heaven. All he had ever wanted. All he needed. He was finally where he belonged.

"What happened?" she asked after a while of pleasant silence that was only interrupted by the sound of the flickering fire.

"A couple of men kidnapped me in the morning and brought me to a house not far away from here. I could escape."

"What? Are you hurt?" she asked alarmed and pulled back to check on him. He shook his head and kissed her forehead. "I'm fine."

Clarisse relaxed a bit and then she gave him a confused look. "Who would do something like that? For what reason?"

"Well, that's a long story, my dear. But I'm here now… with you." He sighed and settled down next to her. She wrapped her arms around his chest and snuggled up next to him. Together they lay there in the darkness, staring into the flames.

"Are you sure no one followed you?" she asked worriedly. "Oh yes…" he answered with a proud smirk. "Lionel is a fighter compared to the clowns who were guarding me."

"I see… is **He** responsible for kidnapping you?"

"I don't think so. Someone else is playing a game with us, although I'm not sure how to tell you the truth about everything."

She lifted her head. "Why?" she asked honestly surprised.

"Is it true that DeLesseps lives here?"

"Oh Joseph…" Almost relieved that he seemed just jealous, she gave him a smile. "You don't actually think you have to worry about him, right? He's just a friend… gosh, I think I've kept telling you that for over 20 years now!"

She smiled at him and leaned over to kiss him. Although they had only kissed a few days ago, he felt as if he missed out on her for years. Their mouths melded passionately and for a few moments they were lost in each other. Their embrace tightened and he rolled her on her back, trapping her underneath him. Her arms slipped around his neck, pressing him softly against her.

"Do you feel reassured enough now?" she chuckled and ran her hands over his back.

"I can't complain," he answered and kissed her again. "I couldn't bear the idea of you and him, hidden in here together," he confessed bluntly between more and more heated kisses. "He doesn't love you, not the way you deserve to be loved." His demanding mouth didn't give her time or space to answer. He kissed her longingly and involved her tongue in a spectacular duel that fired his desire for her.

"And you know how to love me?" she asked with a wide smile, as his mouth kissed its way down her neck to the neckline of her robe.

"At least I know how to make you scream," he answered boldly and unfastened the sash of her robe.

"Do we have time for that?"

"Well, I locked the door again… and I told Shades to keep quiet or I would tell the world he still reads Micky Mouse comics while being on duty." Not buying his joke, she backed off and frown in concern.

"He knows you're here?"

"Don't worry, he's on our side." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "The only reason that could keep me from making love to you, would be you telling me to leave."

"Why should I want you to leave?" she asked tenderly and cupped his cheek. "I love you above everything. There's nothing you could do or say that could lead me to send you away."

He wasn't sure, if she really was aware of the seriousness of what she said, but the bigger part of him preferred to believe in her words and shut reality out.

Feeling his hesitation, she was the one to make the next move. She rolled him on his back, bringing herself on top of him. "You're overdressed," she decided and started to unbutton his shirt. He chuckled and together they removed his jacket and his shirt. Her hands ran over his broad chest, caressed it with her full hands before she turned her attention to his neck. She teased him with her tongue, up to his mouth and playfully bit his lower lip, teasing him. He groaned into her mouth and let his hands glide over her thighs, disturbed by the thin fabric covering her.

Both realized there was no time to waste this night. Their greed for each other intensified with every touch and kiss. A slow, tender lovemaking wouldn't do for either of them. Hands flew and mouths assaulted hectically as they kept undressing each other...

"Don't…," she mumbled afterwards, still out of breath. "I want you to stay with me… stay…"

He lifted his head and kissed her face. "Alright," he whispered into her ear, tracing the line of her face with his nose. "Anything for you."

***

Her hands were cold and although the suite was pleasantly heated, Francesca trembled. She sat on the couch in the King's living room, wearing a ridiculous dress that showed a lot of her naked back and allowed a deep glimpse into her cleavage.

"For Queen and Country," she thought grimly, bracing herself for her task while the King himself was busy with opening a bottle of champagne.

"I'm glad you followed my invitation, Francesca. I can use a friend right now, you know."

"We all need friends from time to time," she answered and scuffled away involuntarily when he sat down next to her. Forcing herself to relax, she took the offered glass and gave him a smile.

"To a successful relationship," he toasted and drank from his champagne. Frankie noticed that he took a large sip and realized that he just needed to calm down his nerves as she wanted to. Apparently, he wasn't as self-assured as he pretended to be and she decided to use that as an advantage. She sipped from her champagne and drew a deep breath.

"You know," she said, pretending to feel rather chilly. "I think it's a bit cold in here… could you add some wood to the fire?"

He smiled and let his eyes roam over her body until they had reached the middle of her cleavage. "Maybe you should have chosen something more… covering."

"To disappoint you? I doubt that…" she retorted wickedly and pulled her legs up, tucking them beneath her, stretching her upper body a bit. "I feel rather comfortable that way… just a bit cold."

"I think we can do something about that," he decided and rose from the couch. He put the glass down on the table and went to the fireplace to add some wood. Quickly, Francesca grabbed her purse, pulled out a small package with white powder, tore it open and added it to the champagne. The pearling liquid gushed, but calmed down again and when the King returned he couldn't have guessed what she had done.

***

Impatiently Lord DeLesseps, the 8th Earl of Whitewood, rang the front door of the house he once had lived in himself. After minutes that seemed hours to him, Lionel finally opened the door.

"Yes, please?"

"Is she here?" he asked shortly and pushed Lionel aside, as he stormed into the house.

"Milady? No, she is out," Lionel answered obediently.

"And he? Is he here?"

"Excuse me, but…" The Earl lost his patience and grabbed Lionel by his collar and shouted straight into his face.

"Ramirez! Is he here? Is she hiding him?"

"No, no… Sir. No." The young man mumbled nervously. Realizing he had chosen the wrong address to search for, DeLesseps set Lionel free.

"And where is my daughter?"

"I brought her to the Palace," Lionel answered, still shaken by the Lord's fury. "She told me, she would call herself a cab to get back at night."

***

"What do you want?" he asked sharply, observing her in the broken mirror. Clarisse avoided his sight in the mirror. His strange visage, a mix of messed up make up and sweat, disgusted her. "I never thought this would be an appropriate place for you, although your husband liked this place very much. He felt at ease here."

"Actually it isn't an appropriate place for anyone who doesn't want to catch a fatal disease. I'm just here to warn you… I don't want you to contact him again. Your influence on him ends here and now. You risked his reputation when you sneaked around in the hospital!"

He laughed and turned in his chair. "Are you losing your power over him? You must be really afraid of me to show up here just to threaten me!"

"I'm hardly afraid of you – I'm disgusted. Over the years you did your best to manipulate him, but those times are over. You have gotten enough money from him to buy your own nightclub, so I wonder why you're still in this shack, trying to sell yourself and your voice!"

"My life with Rupert wasn't about money. You know that, but you simply can't admit it. Anyway… you got what you wanted. He's back in your bed and under your spell. You beat me – finally. A pity that Rupert doesn't see straight through you. I always told him, you didn't give a damn about him."

"You really believe what you're saying, do you?" she asked coldly. "Actually, there's only one reason why I am here. I wanted to see, if anything you've done to me and Rupert over the years has brought you anything."

"And?"

"It didn't… you're still sitting here in this old room, in your old costume, singing your old songs. You lost all the money he ever gave you, because you actually don't have the talent to be more than what you are." She took a deep breath to gain the courage to speak her mind. "A transvestite singer in a third-class nightclub in Paris who works in a hospital to gain some money to make his living. You didn't love him. You were obsessed with the idea of him, but you didn't love him and you still don't know who he really is. He needs a stable home and a family who cares about him. I know he didn't grow up like this, but the bottom line is that this is what he is searching for! And you ruined this opportunity for him, when you went after him like a dog!"

"And how can you know all this?" he asked, scoffing at her. "You're the one person who stomps on his heart, day after day. You weren't exactly the wife he had hoped for when he married you… sure, he got a Queen, a suitable birth machine, but he needed a real wife!"

"You don't know me. Not that I want you to know me." She turned on her heels and approached the door with two quick steps.

"I agree, Majesty. But…" She stopped and waited, her heart beating painfully hard. What was she doing here aside from making an utter fool of herself? How ridiculous was she behaving and what would be the result of this? Her marriage with Rupert was irrevocably over. She was in love with someone else, and although she had no plans to commit adultery, the rift between her husband and her was there and could never be healed.

He rose from his chair. His body was slender and he was bit smaller than she was. She took a step back when he came towards her and her back connected with the door. He trapped her between the door and himself, his hands resting next to her. She smelled his breath, a mixture of alcohol and cigarettes, and wished she had never come to this place.

"But I gave Rupert a little something that'll last forever. I promise you here and now, Your Majesty", he spit the word at her, "that you and your husband won't forget about me."

***

She was ready for a fight and climbed out of the bed, pulling the sheet with her. "Or did you think I wouldn't recognise him?"

Rupert sighed and rubbed his face. "I didn't know he was working in that certain hospital. I was as surprised as you!"

"Ha! I bet his singing career didn't take a turn for the better after his benefactor quit paying his bills!" Infuriated she threw the thin blanket away, picked up her robe and slipped into it.

"Clarisse, you're becoming irrational!"

"You bet, I do!" she yelled at him. "You really have some nerve! You were the one who cheated on me first… you let me believe I wasn't good enough for you! You robbed me of the possibility to have more children because you suddenly felt the need to try something new!" The way her eyes were sparkling at him reminded him about an argument, they had had about 20 years ago in the same city.

"Now let us set something straight," he said warningly while climbing out of the bed as well. "You know damn well that if you had wanted, I would have done anything for you. You were the one who refused me and my offers in the first place!"

"Don't dare telling me that offering to raise another man's child was meant as a good deed from your side! You only wanted to make sure I wouldn't leave you and tell everyone you were… gay! Or bisexual or just not able to make up your mind!"

"Which you wouldn't have done, because you love being Queen!"

"Watch your mouth, Christian Eric Jerome Rupert Renaldi!"

"I won't, Clarisse, because you know damn well I only gave him up for you!"

"Oh please… you grew tired of him! You told me it was over before!"

"It was after the attack on me… Before I came home, I had gone to Paris to finish things between us. And you know why?"

"Enlighten me!" she hissed provokingly, sure his answer wouldn't satisfy her.

"Because I suddenly realized that you were the only one I was thinking off, while the man tried to kill me… you were on my mind, the whole time… what a great couple we make!" he spit and climbed into his pyjama pants.

"You can't expect me to take this burden on my shoulders," she said in a much calmer voice. His answer had surprised her. She knew he had said something similar when he had returned to her that night, but she had never really believed him. Actually she had never really trusted him afterwards; she had just taken what she could get, because she had been starving for attention and tenderness.

"I didn't force you back into my bed and I certainly didn't ask you to give up on anyone!"

"No, you didn't… and maybe that's the problem." He fastened the sash of his robe and approached her. He sounded tired when he started again talking to her. "You're a proud woman, Clarisse… much prouder than I am and it's hard to get close to you. This cloud of virtue and devotion you've built up around yourself is scaring me… And just as I thought we finally made it, I had to realize that you're in love with the last person, I expected you to fall for. Really, I didn't expect our Joseph to be your type." He smirked. "You're an endless enigma to me, Clarisse. You know, sometimes I wish you had slept with him, because this friggin innocent behaviour of yours when it comes to someone you obviously desire is hard to bear! I think people call it hypocrisy!"

"So, now I have to apologize for staying faithful to you?" she asked offended.

"No, but I'm sick of you denying the truth. And don't tell me, it was because of the country or our sons! If you ask me, you're just afraid of living out your feelings!"

"I thought that was what I just did," she remarked dryly, glancing at the messed up bed.

"I'm not talking about sex, Clarisse although that's the only thing we basically agree on. I'm talking about love. True love."

"Are you going to tell me that you really loved that man?"

He swallowed and shook his head. "I didn't. But maybe I received love from him."

So much honesty coming out of his mouth hurt her deeply. A kaleidoscope of memories past rushed through her head, showing off their missed chances.

"I wanted to love you and you know that… you turned away from me, in favour of a childish dream about something you couldn't have. I admit our marriage lacked a lot of things but I tried. I really tried. I'm not perfect but neither are you. It isn't my fault that you can't live with yourself. The man used you and your weaknesses and you fell for it, but that isn't my problem – not anymore!"

As always when they were arguing, she was the one who got the upper hand after some time. As always, she was the one who knew exactly how to kick him where it hurt the most.

"I know he was after money and a career but so were you and your family. Don't blame him for playing the same cards."

"Be damned, Rupert," she said angrily and turned away from him.

"I think, we both are damned," he said calmly, leaving for the bathroom.

***


	18. Chapter 18

"_I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. (Richard Blaine to Ilsa Lund in "Casablanca")  
_

**Chapter 17**

In general 5.30 am wasn't a sensible time to go home, but since she knew that at this time the guards were changing shifts, she hoped no one would recognize her when she left the palace.

He was still sound asleep, she had checked just before she had collected her things. She had cleaned everything she had touched, hoping no evidence of her visit could be found, if ever searched for. The most important thing was, he wouldn't remember much of this night and believe what she wanted him to believe.

***

Clarisse had fallen asleep with her back pressed against him, after they had moved from the floor to the bed. His arm was wrapped around her, his head was right behind hers, the scent of her hair stuck in his nose, reminding him how valuable this night was. He didn't regret making love to her, but he had come with the intention to come clean about his relationship with Frankie and instead his fear to lose her had won.

At least he knew how that DeLesseps wasn't as close to Clarisse as he had wanted to make him believe. At least that.

He lifted his head and checked the old-fashioned clock on the nightstand. It was close to 3 am. He should leave now… he should leave.

***

_Clarisse cursed lowly when she hit a couple of books she had pulled out of the shelves and placed on the table with her elbow. The volumes audibly fell to the floor and she had to bend down to pick them up._

_"Let me help you, Ma'am." Out of nowhere Joseph had appeared in the library, kneeling next to her and helped her to collect the books._

_"Thank you, Joseph," she said, rising up. Involuntarily their arms touched while placing the items back on the table and as always her cheeks turned red with him close. Would that ever stop? Would her heart ever stop to beat stronger when he was around her? Would she ever be able to cope?_

_"What are you doing here? It's almost time for dinner," Joe said, watching her closely, because he could never watch her beautiful face enough when he got the chance to be alone with her._

_"The King asked me to pick up some books for him… seems as if the doctors have decided to keep him longer in the hospital than expected," she explained._

_"Is he ill?" Joe asked concerned._

_"No, but after his collapse in Paris some years ago, he refused to go into any hospital. I guess, they use their chance to keep him as long as they can to do some extended examinations."_

_"I see."_

_While she sorted the books back and forth to cover her nervousness, he thought about what to do. Talking to her was never easy since she always tried to avoid him. But he didn't want to leave either. It had been months since they had talked to each other. But of course it hadn't slipped his attention that she looked rather tired these days. With the King away, her schedule was much tighter than usual and Prince Philippe was no help, since he was in Asia for a couple of unofficial state visits._

_"It's time for dinner, your Majesty, you must be hungry. The books can wait."_

_"I'm not hungry…," she said, stretching her tense back. "Tea will be enough for me tonight."_

_"As you wish, Ma'am. I'll call the kitchen." He picked up the receiver and called the kitchen on her behalf. He added in a whisper to prepare at least some sandwiches in case she changed her mind. When he hung up, he found her staring pensively at the ceiling._

_"5 years," she said suddenly and shook her head. "5 years."_

_"Excuse me… 5 years?" Joe asked, astonished about her behaviour. "5 years ago my granddaughter was born. It's her birthday today… and I haven't seen her once."_

_"I'm sorry," he said flatly. He knew Philippe had a child with an American woman, but after their secretive marriage didn't work out, he had come back to Genovia without a wife and an heir, much to his parents disapproval._

_"Yes, me too." She sniffed, wiped away a tear and picked up the books. "If you'll excuse me now, I have to go."_

_She passed him quickly and he had to force himself to stand still instead of pulling her into a tight embrace. Of course, he didn't know the details, but the gossip machinery in the Palace worked as flawlessly as always and it was no secret that things between the King and Queen weren't the best. They were sleeping in separate rooms – again and very often they even spent their weekends apart. On one hand he was relieved to know that she wasn't sharing the King's bed any longer, but on the other hand it hurt to know that he was probably the reason for their latest estrangement and her obvious unhappiness._

***

"Wait a second." Clarisse lifted her head, awoken by the soft light of the lamp on the nightstand, just as Joe sneaked out of the bed.

"I have to go, Darling," he explained tenderly, as he felt her warm body coming in contact with his. Her arms wrapped around him and he felt the soft flesh of her breasts against his back. Staying in bed with her to continue what they had started a few hours ago seemed much more promising than going out in the cold night.

"And where will you go? The whole country is searching for you… you can't even buy yourself something to eat without risking to be recognized!"

"I'll survive," he said, took her hand from his chest and kissed it. "Sooner or later, the Police will search the Palace anyway. So I better go as long as nobody suspects a thing."

"You still haven't told me who did this to you…if it wasn't him…who else?"

"You can't think of anyone?" he asked back, hoping she would be able to come to the right conclusion all by herself. But his hope failed as she tilted her head for a moment and took her time to think. Then she shrugged and kissed his shoulder blade.

"Actually not. I don't know who could hate you that much. Has anyone ever hated you? I can't imagine it."

"Your husband," he answered dryly.

"Rupert didn't hate you…" she explained lowly. "Had he hated you, he would have sent you to China or India, but he let you stay…"

"I thought it was you who made me stay." He turned to her, his eyes searching for hers. "Well, at one point I asked Rupert to send you away and he refused… he told me I should face my feelings for you instead of running away from them." She smiled pensively. "He was right."

"Is there anything else you haven't told me about him?" he asked, now eager to learn more. It was surprising how little he actually knew about her and Rupert, although he had lived close to them for the last two decades.

"Nothing you would like to know," was her evasive answer. He grabbed her lower arm, as she was withdrawing and kept her close to him. "No, wait… as this whole mess started I asked you about your relationship with him and you blocked me out. But I want to know more about him… I need to know more! You say you know he is dead, but we have no grave, no corpse… I trusted you when you said, I should leave things alone but… actually it's hard to keep that promise when you sit in jail and fear for your freedom and the safety of those you love…" His voice trailed off.

"I know I ask a lot of you… and I know…" Again she tried to free herself and this time he let her. She slipped back under the sheets, staring at the ceiling. "I know you deserve the truth after everything you had to go through… you're caring and patient and…" The words were stuck in her mouth and she had no idea how to force them over her lips. What if he finally knew and would question her and her integrity? What if he felt betrayed? What if he didn't understand, why she stayed close Rupert despite everything that had happened between them? Despite the danger he had involuntarily brought her.

"Gosh, that's difficult," she blurted out, covering her face with her hands. "I kept this under the rug for so long…"

"What?" Joseph asked truly concerned when he saw she was fighting for the right words. "What can be so hard to admit… did he cheat on you? Did he kill someone? Wasn't Rupert royal by blood?" he asked, trying to guess the truth.

"No…," she said in a tired voice and stretched her hand out to him. "Come here… please."

He took her hand and joined her. She leaned her head against his chest and drew a deep breath, trying to untie the gigantic knot of guilt and pain in her stomach. "Look… you were right about one thing. It's true that Rupert cheated on me, while we were married," she started slowly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Joe said flatly. "You deserved better."

"Shhh…" She placed her index finger on his mouth. "I learned to cope…although… I went mad when I found out about it. I thought we were close enough to avoid situations like that, but I guess I always misunderstood him… I misjudged him when he was starting to avoid me and thought that's how relationships are… I thought married people grew apart after a few years… I saw it with my parents who were hardly communicating when they grew older. But then I didn't want to live like that. I thought another child could help us to become closer again, but… he didn't want any more children… he had two sons and as time has shown both were enough to handle for both of us."

Silence fell and he waited patiently for her to continue. "It happened in Paris… a state visit… one afternoon when he was supposed to have a meeting I came into our suite and found him in bed with someone else…"

"You were on a state visit? But how…" She put her finger on his lips. If he started asking questions now, she would never say what she had to. "They met in a nightclub. Some private party… Apparently the French President had a thing for those places… anyway… I don't remember everything from that day, but I know I had a fit and threw things at both of them. I behaved like a lunatic, because I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear to be like all the other wives who are cheated on… Arrogant, I know but I felt so disgraced… And yet I couldn't change a thing about it… it went on for years… until the attacks on us started."

"And who was she?" he asked, still unsure what all this had to do with their situation right now. "Did you know her?" Preparing to hear Rupert had slept with her assistant or her ladies maid he kissed her forehead and tightened his embrace. But since nothing in this world could have warned him before, he felt as if she had thrown a bucket of cold water at him when she told him in a cold voice that Rupert's lover hadn't been a woman.

"No. But it wasn't a woman. It was a man."

***

_"Damn you!" Clarisse slammed the terrace door behind her and for a moment she feared the glass would burst into a million pieces. She had no explanation for Rupert's latest change of moods, but it annoyed her deeply and it infuriated her. Since he had left the hospital two days ago, he had become unpredictable. He refused to celebrate his birthday. He refused to go to church, something he had at least done to keep the façade. He argued with Philippe and pushed him to find a suitable woman to marry and he constantly barked at her, especially when she told him about her planned public appearances and her plans for a new stud. She knew he disliked her interest in horses and art, but he had always let her do what she thought was best. Why he was unbalanced and apparently unwilling to listen to her and the rest of the world was beyond her. And if she was honest, she didn't even care right now._

***

_The air outside was cool, even though it was just early September, and she shivered in her thin blouse. It was quite late and darkness was settling in. She rubbed her arms and decided to go back inside – around the corner. She could stop in the kitchen and get herself a hot chocolate before she retired for the night. Maybe she could avoid another meeting with Rupert. Her need for fights was covered for one day._

_As she entered the kitchen, she almost stumbled over her feet, noticing that she wasn't the only one who needed something to warm up. Joseph stood at the oven, pouring some hot milk into a cup. He had changed into a t-shirt that showed off his muscular arms and his trained upper body. A sight that caused her throat to tighten and her heart beat to fasten. She cursed silently and wished she had stayed upstairs, but now it was too late. They were both together in one room. Attentive, as only he was, he had noticed her and gave her a smile when he saw her standing in the door._

_"Joseph", she greeted him nervously and entered the kitchen._

_"Ma'am. You in the kitchen?" he asked, trying to hide his amusement. "Lost your way?"_

_"The fact that I hate cooking doesn't mean I don't know where to find the fridge," she snapped, trying to ignore his perfect looks. His presence was the last thing she needed. If Rupert had a frustrating impact on her, Joseph, the incredibly sexy and caring Head of Security, was even worse. She decided to forget about the hot chocolate and went to the fridge to get out something, anything else before she vanished again._

_"I didn't want to insult you… it's just that I never saw you here at this hour before."_

_"Does that mean you're here more often… don't you like the food our chef fixes?"_

_"Oh, I like it… but sometimes…" He shrugged. "I like the peace down here after most of the others have retired."_

_"Yes, peace can be wonderful," she remarked dryly and closed the refrigerator door again. Aside from awfully smelling cheese there was nothing that could interest her for a snack. "I think, I should go."_

_She turned to leave but his calm words stopped her. "Are you sure, you're alright?"_

_"Of course."_

_"You know the maids say, the King isn't well these days… they say his mood is worse than ever and you've become his favourite punching ball… figuratively, of course."_

_"Well, as I see the maids know everything," she replied sarcastically._

_"Do they know everything?"_

_She heard his steps as he approached her and swallowed. "Please, Ma'am. You can trust me. Are you sure everything is alright?"_

_"I don't know what's wrong with him," she admitted after a short hesitation. "He's… just awful and I don't know why." Saying it aloud was almost a relief. A stone dropped from her heart and she sighed. "I don't know how things could get out of hand like this."_

_He passed her and placed himself in front of her. She could smell his cologne and lowered her eyelashes when his eyes searched for hers. She had already said too much and wished she didn't want to lean against him, hoping he would caress her pain away._

_"You know, I've noticed he is very unbalanced these days, but I didn't know he mostly took his anger out on you."_

_"He doesn't… not as you think. He's overworked and tired… yes, I guess that's it…as we all are," she explained, still not looking at him. "But I shouldn't bother you with all this. I have to go!"_

_With her eyes fixed on the ground, she started to move and this time he couldn't help but to do what he wanted to do the last time she tried to escape. Driven by an invisible force he locked his arms around her middle and kept her from leaving the room._

_"Joseph, please," she managed to whisper as he drew her close to him._

_"Talk to me," he pleaded quietly. "Tell me, what's wrong. I'll listen to you… you deserve someone to listen to you."_

_"I'm fine," she insisted but remained in his embrace. His hands held her waist; she felt the warmth of them penetrating her skin through the silk of blouse. And as if she hadn't imagined it a thousand times before, visions of how it would be to make love to him appeared on her mind and made it hard for her to breathe. His presence overwhelmed her and every fibre of her body seemed tense, anticipating what couldn't be and was yet so tempting. One movement, one silent plea from her eyes and there would be no turning back. Their mouths were inches apart, his hard body almost touching hers. She didn't know if his heart was hammering like hers but she fought the temptation to press her hand on his chest to learn, if he felt what she felt. She imagined how his muscles would work under her greedy hands… How her nails would leave red scratches on his skin while he drove her over the edge as they made love._

_The palms of his hand were cupping her inflamed cheeks and his thumb caressed her lips with rough tenderness. Their eyes met, admitting he was thinking the very same._

_"No…," she whispered again. "We can't… I can't… I'm married… I am married and he's…."_

_"I know… and I won't, but…it's… You can't imagine how much I want you," he said huskily, unable to keep his words in check._

_"You can't tell me something like that," she panted and did her best to repress the rising tears. God, she was so confused and her heart beat so fast. She knew how much it hurt to miss out on him. Hearing him confessing what her own heart told her day after day made it all worse for her._

_"I think, I have exactly ten seconds to leave this room," she said, still holding eye contact._

_"Please…"_

_"Five," she forced herself to back off and turn away. Tears were blinding her, but she could still figure out the person standing in the doorway of the kitchen. It was the moment she had always feared. The only thing she could hope for was that Rupert hadn't heard everything of her conversation with Joseph._

_"May I ask what's going on here?"_

***

Frankie climbed out of the cab, gave the driver a huge tip and searched in her purse for her keys. She yawned when she approached the huge front door and aimed the key into the lock.

"Where have you been?" Startled and she let her key drop to the floor and whirled around. A relieved sigh escaped her lips as she saw her father standing in front of her.

"You scared me!" she said angrily and picked up her keys. "Isn't it a little early for you to sneak around outside?"

"Isn't it a little late to come home?" he barked back.

"The times of me having a curfew are long over!" she retorted coldly and finally unlocked her door.

"Where have you been?" he repeated, following her into the house.

"Out," was her harsh answer, as she took off her warm coat. Henry switched the lights on, but showed no intention to take off his coat as well.

"That puppy here told me you went to the Palace last night." He noticed her thin dress showing off more of her body than a father wanted to see. "May I ask why?"

"You may not," she said. "Look, I need a coffee. Say what you have to and then leave. I have a busy day ahead."

"Seems you had a busy night… what did you want at the palace? Did you have a date with the King?"

Something like that," she answered. "And now, go!" she demanded, turning away.

"Your friend escaped from prison." he said out of the blue, stunning her. "I heard about that."

"I thought you were hiding him…"

"Me?" she asked in disbelief, facing him again. "I want to prove his innocence, not commit a crime."

"Let's say I know you. You don't hesitate to do some mischief to get what you want… that fancy dress of yours is a proof for that."

As always his accusations hit home. Henry Delesseps loved to hide his opinions in mean statements that consisted of nothing but his own ideas of people.

"What do you think I did at the Palace?" she challenged and made a step towards him.

"You tell me…"

"Why don't do say out loud that you think your daughter is a first-class whore? Maybe I let the old man take me to bed to get the chance to become the next Queen of Genovia, just in case the King gets tired of waiting for Clarisse to cooperate. Maybe you raised the next Anne Boleyn without realizing it… I bet that was on your mind for the last few hours; otherwise you wouldn't have spent your time in front of my door. Why don't you go and search somewhere else for Joe?! Not that you will ever find him! You're blinded by hate and your own sick imagination!" she spit out and waited for his response. Both were tensed up to an unbearable limit. Their eyes were locked and both were unwilling to give up.

"I can't believe you behave like that…" he said disgustedly. "What kind of person have you become? Tell me the truth!"

"As if you cared for the truth…"

"I do more than you think!"

"No, you don't. Otherwise you wouldn't be here! Go, Henry. Leave my house. There isn't enough space in this country for the two of us!"

***

_His grip around her arm was tight, he hurt her. The already very uncomfortable and embarrassing scene in the kitchen had found its climax when Rupert had thrown Joe out of the kitchen and had grabbed Clarisse by her arm, forcing her with him into the privacy of their suite. He slammed the door behind them and a heartbeat later she felt her back violently connecting with the wall._

_"What the hell was going on between you and him down there?" he yelled at her, his eyes glittering with pain and – although she wasn't sure she read it correctly - fear. He had released her arm but stood so close to her that their bodies almost touched._

_"None of your business!" she screamed, using both of her hands to push him away. But he caught her wrists and dragged her against the wall._

_"Don't lie to me, Clarisse! I need to know what's going on with you and him! Did you want to screw him on the kitchen floor?"_

_"I don't owe you any explanation! Let me go off!" She fought him and to her surprise he loosened his fingers around her arms. She watched him more closely and noticed that it wasn't just her who was shaking, but also he. His whole body seemed to tremble, although he tried to control himself._

_"This is no game, Clarisse," he hissed bitterly. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, squeezing them firmly but without the violent force he had used before to tear her with him. "I don't have time for games or hiding. Just tell me the truth: Are you sleeping with this man?"_

_"Rupert…" she started, but he cut her off with another sharp order. "Damn it, Clarisse Renaldi!" His hands flew to her hips, taking possession of them. He pushed her against him. His eyes stared straight into hers, scaring her as she realized the panic in them was real. "All I want is a no or a yes! You have no idea how important this is! And don't dare to lie to me!"_

_"Nothing happened," she said after she had swallowed heavily. "Never."_

_Within a second the tension left his body. He seemed to crumble, as he embraced her tightly and whispered words she couldn't understand. His hand held onto the back of her neck, his forehead rested on hers. His tears wetted her face and ended on the thin fabric of her blouse. "I'm sorry… so sorry… I never meant to hurt you…"_

_Confused and scared herself, her arms slowly slipped around his body to hold him. Sensing this wasn't about jealousy or his ego, she let her hands roam reassuringly over his back._

_"Alright…," she whispered unsteadily. "It's alright, Rupert… tell me what it is. Just talk to me."_

_Rupert's fingers clutched the fabric of her blouse; he clung to her as if his whole existence depended on her support._

_"I'm sorry… so sorry… I'm a lousy father and even worse a husband! First, I push you away and then I almost kill you! Can you ever forgive me?"_

_"You know I'll always forgive you!" Her mind whirled from the roller coaster of emotions he had put her through today. His words didn't make sense. He didn't make any sense. Nothing made sense anymore._

_"But you have to tell me what's going on," she said as rationally as possible and backed off a bit. She cupped his face with her hands and wiped his tears away with her thumb. His eyes were red, dark shadows were surrounding them and all of the sudden he looked as fragile as she had never seen him before. Not when he had been the victim of ruthless attacks on his life and not when she had visited him in Hospital after his collapse in Paris._

_"I'm ill, Clarisse," he mumbled after some time. "Sooner or later, I'm going to die."_

***

Francesca closed the envelope in her hands and took her pen to address it. In less than one hour, this would be in the hands of Sebastian Motaz. Hopefully this was the proof that would help to discover who the man behind the façade of the late King was…

***

The shock was written all over his face, as Clarisse finished her report. The whole time Joseph had tried to listen attentively, but he had to admit that the story she told him was hard to bear. The extent of deception she, Rupert and some other people had committed took his breath away. He felt incredible fooled and stupid and on the other hand relieved. At least she wasn't infected… at least she was healthy.

While dawn had arrived outside and heavy fog developed over the fields, Joe had lain next to Clarisse, held her tightly, shared the warmth of his body with hers while all the secrets she had kept from him finally left her lips and unfolded a part of her life to him, he had never expected to exist.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could have helped you! It must have taken an enormous amount of strength to keep this a secret! What about the nurses and the doctors in the hospital?"

"We paid them quite generously, let them sign special contracts and one after the other they received new jobs, higher positions in several countries all over the world. When we knew his health was turning for the worse, we agreed we would only let the Prime Minister and the Archbishop know… Rupert refused at first but later I think he discovered his faith after he learnt the doctors could only prolong his life without saving him from a horrible death."

"I still can't believe that mad man slipped our attention all those years… I mean… how could he stay in the shadows for all this time?"

"I never asked Rupert how he kept it a secret… after I found out I shut that part of his and my life out completely. I didn't even allow myself to think about it. I just went on with my life as good as I could… I think Carlos, his private secretary, helped him to arrange dates in the first years… covered them, gave him all the money he wanted and later… well, the man worked in the hospital in Paris… Etienne aka Penelope, the singer."

"Who was he? A singer?"

"Some unlucky soul… Rupert told me once he was a talented singer who had a chance, if someone gave him the money to afford a manager who could push his career. Unfortunately, he used Rupert's money for alcohol and drugs… sometimes it seemed he had come out of the darkness, when some big label showed interest in him, but as always his lifestyle killed his options… in the end he blamed Rupert, because he turned away from him and stopped paying him." She sighed tiredly and hid her face in the crook of Joe's neck.

"It was him you met in that nightclub?" he asked, remembering the night she had asked him to drive her. He had known back then his worries for her safety had been justified, but since he had never been able to refuse her a wish, he had driven her and had kept quiet about it until this day.

"Yes. He threatened me that night… he told me, he had given us something we wouldn't forget, but back then I had no idea how serious this threat was. I guess, I never thought he had gone so far… I still can't believe it. It's too unbelievable."

"It's sick," Joe confirmed flatly. "I was in charge… no one who wasn't supposed to be there, was there!" Joe insisted and rubbed his face. The guilt washed over him like a tsunami and shattered his world. What if he could have avoided all this? What if the King could still be alive and a healthy man without his unforgivable blindness?

"No Joseph… look at me!" She took his face in her hands and caressed it gently. The tender expression in her eyes was meant to compensate his guild but it only made him feel worse. What if she had become ill, because he allowed a lunatic to infect her husband? The perversity of the plan to infect Rupert with HIV, hoping he would transfer the virus to his wife while having sex with her, hit him deeply. It was insane how far people could go to take revenge.

"It wasn't your fault. Look, the man is dead by now. Two years before Rupert died we learned from some attorney of his that he had committed suicide. He left us a letter, confessing what he did in the hospital in Paris… he simply took an injection he had used on himself before and injected him something I can't remember. He was dressed up as the female nurse the head nurse had sent to take care of Rupert. Apparently, he had bribed her and wore her clothes as well as a wig. I know what he could look like when he wanted to… his face, his make up, even his walking style. I know there's no way your men or you could have suspected a thing when he went into the room dressed up as someone else." She drew a deep breath and snuggled against him, locked her arms more firmly around his middle. "You wouldn't have recognized him. Rupert never blamed anyone but himself, although it wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame for that man's crazy mind or for the life he lived. After all, we are all responsible for ourselves. Blaming others is always easy but in the end our fate is in our hands."

"And what would you have done had you been infected as well?" he asked, still scared by the mere thought of the "what-could-have-been-scenario" in his head.

"I don't know," she admitted with a slight shrug. "At first I felt desperate and helpless. I knew I had slept once with Rupert after he left the hospital, I know if I had gotten it, it wouldn't have come as a surprise and in case they couldn't find anything, I would be incredibly blessed. And I was. They'd tested me more often than I could count. After the first row of negative tests I couldn't believe I wasn't infected. It seemed so unfair towards Rupert, because after all his chances to be lucky had been the same as mine."

"I can't even imagine what it must feel like… to know this disease is attacking you and you know you can't escape."

"The worst is the uncertainty of when it'll hit you… you're never safe, from one day to the other it can break out. It sent him straight into hell when Rupert realized it had started… I don't know how often he contemplated to kill himself, but I thank God for every time he didn't allow him the courage to do it."

"You've gone through hell all those years and I thought… I thought it was his heart… sure, you kept him away from everything and everyone in the last two years but… you even fooled me."

"I didn't want to fool you… you've no idea how tempted I was to go to you and talk to you about everything. How much I wanted your advice… your love and not just your reassuring smiles and gestures, although they helped a lot… I wanted so much more. But then I was afraid… I was afraid the more people knew about it, the more everything Rupert and I had worked for was in danger… and see what happened. It is in danger now. I can't go to the press and tell the world what happened. They would tear his memory apart. No one would care for the peace and economic stability he had brought to his country…. For them he would just be someone who was a victim of his restlessness and his lust. And what about Pierre and Amelia? Pierre adored the ground Rupert walked on… I can't destroy the image of his father. Not now that he needs every help he can get. And what do I force on Mia, if I let her take over the reign of people that don't believe in their first family anymore?"

He heard the desperation in her words and he could fully understand it. He knew about her deep love for her country and for her family. God, he had almost lost her because of it and he had accepted it was part of her nature to protect what was hers. He just never understood how far she had already gone to accomplish what she understood as the mission for her life. Her fight was for something that in her eyes seemed to be bigger than herself, but for him it was her who made that certain something special.

"You're amazing," was the only comment he could think of. "Absolutely amazing."

"Stupid," she said and lifted her head to kiss him. His mouth met hers with slight hesitation. Besides the fact that he shouldn't be here, because it was too dangerous for both of them, he shouldn't be here, because he realized right now that he had wronged her more often than he thought – especially when he had left her in the dark about his relationship with Francesca.

"No, I'm serious. Clarisse, I have to tell you something. Right now." The lump in his throat threatened to choke him but he swallowed heavily and waited for her approval.

"Alright… shoot, as Mia would say."

The light smile playing around her lips nearly killed him, but his decision was made and whatever had to happen, should happen – rather now than later.

"I made a mistake… I was a fool and there's no justification for my behaviour…"

"CLARISSE!!"

A frantic knock at the bedroom door startled them both from their lying position. Shocked, Clarisse pulled the sheets around her body.

"CLARISSE, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!"

"That's Henry!" she whispered anxiously. "Bathroom!" she hissed and pointed to the door with her head. As quickly as possible, Joe jumped out of the bed, collected the spread clothes from the floor he could get and vanished behind the bathroom door.

"Just a second, Henry!" she yelled and climbed off the bed. She picked up the remainders of their clothes, threw them on the bed and covered them with the sheets. Then she slipped into her robe and made the lousy attempt of fixing her messed up hair with her fingers.

Out of breath she checked whether Joseph had really closed the bathroom door and went to her bedroom door. She unlocked and opened it for Henry. She was aghast when she saw his worn out face.

"Henry… what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry to disturb at this hour, but we have to talk!"

She opened the door completely, allowing him access to her private bedroom, hoping he didn't notice that she wasn't alone.

"What happened here?" he asked bewildered as his eyes detected the crumbled carpet in front of the fireplace. She blushed and cleared her throat quickly.

"Maurice… I sent him out with Priscilla some minutes ago…"

"I see…" He looked around nervously, but when he didn't discover anything else, he seemed satisfied and sighed. He turned to the window, stared into the fog and said coldly: "It's Francesca… I don't know what's gotten into her…"

"Francesca?" Clarisse raised her eyebrow, happy he brought up another subject. "What happened?"

"Last night, I went to her house… I wanted to talk her. She wasn't there. Her errant boy… what's his name again? Anyway, he told me she was at the palace."

"The Palace," she repeated confused. "What would she want there?"

"I asked her the very same when she returned two hours ago!" He turned to her. "She was dressed up like a ten-pound-tart!"

"Henry!" she rebuked him sharply. "She's your daughter! And you know I don't condone this kind of language in my home!"

"What do you expect me to say about her after everything she has done?" he barked back. "The idea that she slept with that pig to accomplish God knows what drives me insane! I thought I raised her better than that!"

"What makes you think she did?" Clarisse wanted to know. She suddenly remembered her last conversation with Francesca and something dawned on her… Francesca had said she expected important information that night… but she wouldn't, wouldn't she? Would she go to such length to prove something? The idea made Clarisse sick and she wrapped her arms around her, as she was getting cold.

"It was something about her behaviour… she is hiding something from me. It was just odd! And I know her better than you do. I know what my daughter is capable of!" He looked at her and the strange expression in his eyes worried her deeply.

"Do you want me to talk to her…woman to woman?" she offered, unsure if she was doing the right thing. But he shook his head and took a step towards her.

"No, thank you. You've done enough for her when you accepted her, though she… well…" He touched her cheek and caressed it with circling moves of his thumb. "You have enough to worry about. You look tired."

"Ohhh… well, I didn't sleep much," she stumbled nervously. "You should rest, my dear," he said gently and let his eyes rest on her face for a few moments, before they roamed down her throat to the neckline of her bathrobe. She swallowed under his gaze and tilted her head just in time as he bent forward to kiss her. His lips ended on her cheek. Sensing he overstepped the line, Henry backed off.

"I'll try to," she answered pretending that nothing had happened. "But… I have an appointment in an hour and didn't even have breakfast yet. I need to get dressed." She made an apologizing face.

"Of course. Will I see you for lunch?"

"Dinner," she corrected him. "I think Sebastian will be here for lunch…. Trying to make amends."

He repressed a sigh and nodded slowly. "I see… it'll never change for us, right?"

"No," she admitted in a low voice and lowered her head.

"I'll see you later." He managed to give her a smile, but she couldn't bring herself to bid him goodbye. When he passed her on his way out, he had hesitated for a few moments. Maybe he wanted to tell her something, but he decided otherwise. When the door had closed behind him, she turned, waiting for Joe to come out of the bathroom.

When he came out, fully dressed, she asked. "You heard him?"

"Yes," he said, drawing a deep breath.

"Do you think she did anything like that?"

"I don't know," he answered, not knowing what to think. "But we have to find out."

He had heard every word that had been spoken between Clarisse and Henry. Whatever Francesca had done for Clarisse had brought her back into her good graces. If he told her about his relationship to her, Clarisse wouldn't give a damn about Frankie's help and kick her out of her life again. Could it be that it was the wrong time to tell her the truth?

He turned his attention back to her. She looked incredibly beautiful, although it was visible that the stress of the last few days had taken its toll on her. What should he do?

"Joseph?" she asked, disturbing him in his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"I have an idea…."

"About Francesca?"

"No, but I think I know how to make sure no one will find you!" She took his hand, leading him to the door. He stopped her by raising his hand and breathed in deeply...

"Well… I have to tell you something as well… will you listen to me?"

***


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18**

"Clarisse, do you understand what I'm telling you?" Joe asked bewildered by her obvious calm. He had followed her around the castle for quite some time while he had told her about Henry and how the man had kidnapped him, but she had yet to say a word. He wondered if she had even heard what he had to say. They were climbing up a narrow staircase into a part of the old building that was called "the dungeon" among the Palace employees, because it was common knowledge that former the King of Genovia had hidden his mistress in the attic.

"Yes, I do understand you. You told me Henry has kidnapped you…," she repeated his earlier words. "I just wonder why… I mean I know he is capable of a lot of things, but…" She sighed and unlocked a small wooden door with an old-fashioned key.

Apparently they had reached their destination – the dungeon. The two rooms under the roof had been enlarged a long time ago and it seemed that, although they were a bit narrow, they offered enough space to live in. A few small windows allowed the sunlight to brighten the rooms, filled various pieces of furniture, which were all covered by large pieces of white fabric to keep the dust off.

"I'll tell Charlotte to organize a bed or something similar for you…," she added absent-mindedly and looked around, checking the interior.

"This man hates me Clarisse, he offered me a fortune in case I left you and Genovia for good. I want you to be careful around him. Do you hear me?" He approached her and tried to establish eye contact with her.

"You know I've always wondered why he hates you that much… even if he never admitted it I felt the tension every time the two of you met… I couldn't name it but I couldn't help to observe it."

"Well, one reason is quite obvious, wouldn't you say?" Joe asked meaningfully.

She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. The room was quite cold and her robe was made of thin silk. "I know, do you think Rupert and Henry got along? They were always at odds with each other, but… it's special with you."

"I know. And the feeling is mutual for various reasons," Joe sighed. "Our resentment towards each other has another, deeper reason… though I consider you the tip of the iceberg, not its core."

"Excuse me…," Clarisse asked curiously, sensing something she couldn't exactly name. Her stomach began to flutter. Something about his cryptic remark scared her and now her body tensed from fear, not from the cold.

"The other reason he hates me is my former relationship with his daughter." He said it. He had spoken the words, he had feared to articulate for over two decades. He held his breath, as his heart beat faster, awaiting her judgement.

"Your relationship with whom?" she asked, completely taken aback. "Are we talking about Francesca here?"

"Yes… we do." She studied his face, trying to read, whether she had understood correctly.

Silence fell. Time passed, as his words and their meaning took their time to work through her mind and settle into her brain. Now, unsure sure if the cold came from the outside or developed deep down inside her, Clarisse was turning away, trying to hide the rush of feelings that must be visible her face.

"I guess we're not talking about a platonic relationship here," she concluded openly and noticed how calm she sounded, although she knew she was shaking all over .

"No, we don't. Clarisse, please…"

"When did it happen?" she demanded to know, cutting him off sharply.

"21 years ago… It… it lasted only a few weeks."

"She left Pierre because of you." It was no question, just a confirmation to clear up what was changing things forever between them.

"It was over between us, long before she left him. You have to ask her for the reasons."

Was there a part, a limb of her body that didn't feel like made of lead? So heavy and poisoned… so numb.

"I'll talk to Charlotte… you can stay here." Turning, her eyes searched for a way to escape. She focused on the door behind him and headed towards it.

"Please, let us talk, Clarisse," he pleaded, as he became fully aware of the damage he had done.

"Well, we talked all night, didn't we? You had plenty of time to talk to me."

Without giving him the chance to respond to this, the door audibly closed behind her, leaving him in his self-created misery.

***

_Her fingers were caught in his hair, brushing it gently while the monotone sounds of the machines next to his bed disturbed the silence of the room. Those machines, as useless as some of them were, didn't disturb her anymore. It was a matter of time the doctor had told her a week ago. A matter of time, before their sounds would fade, until another patient would depend on them and another person had to listen and wait for them to be switched off._

_Barely conscious these days, Rupert was in a state between life and death, while Clarisse sat by his side whenever her duties allowed. Sometimes she hardly knew how she made it. Getting up, smiling for her people, being with Rupert, denying herself the man she loved, working on papers, signing them, answering them, giving orders, all that wore her out and weakened her, but she told herself it was the price she had to pay. She had never asked if the way she lived her life was the right way. She had just done it without asking the necessary questions. And now he was there dying and she was at his side. She hadn't thought of the possibility they could end like this when she married him. To be honest, she had never thought about the idea he could die. Rupert had always been immortal to her. She had never thought about the future, but now she had to._

_"Philippe is doing fine," she said lowly, as her hand caressed his head. "You would be so proud of him. He's ready to be King. He's everything we could ever wish for… there's no need to worry anymore…"_

***

"Believe me, Your Majesty. That's our only chance to prove something!" Motaz pointed out after he had told her about his plans. Lunch had been frosty. Her Majesty was short and – that was the worst part – wore black. Motaz hadn't felt that uneasy in her presence since the King had died. A bad sign.

"What if it fails like your first attempt?" Clarisse asked bitterly. She couldn't say she had much trust in Motaz. Although what he suggested sounded logical and simple, she remained sceptical. The knife Joe had stabbed into her heart hurt and had damaged her belief in good. Especially, after she had convinced herself that her instincts regarding Francesca had been wrong und unjustified. Sometimes, things were just as they seemed.

"I doubt we'll fail again. This time I made sure the right people are involved."

"And who are the right people?"

"Milady DeLesseps…"

Clarisse scoffed at the mention of Francesca's name and stopped her Prime Minister with a wave of her hand. "Do me a favour and do whatever you have to do, but don't mention her in my presence."

"She's been of great help for us. After all, it was she, who acquired the strand of hair that allowed us to perform a new test," Motaz reminded her, stunned by her coldness.

"She is, isn't she…?" Clarisse mused absent-mindedly. "But as I said: do whatever you have to do… And now please, leave me alone."

Feeling like a beaten dog, he rose from his chair and left the suite.

***

He felt claustrophobic. He had no memory of last night. He only felt a terrible headache and the wish to throw up. He remembered a certain female visitor. He remembered drinks and laughter… even some kisses and then – nada. Zipp. Black. His mind was blank. Something told him that he had made a terrible mistake by allowing himself to trust Francesca DeLesseps. He couldn't shake the feeling of being outsmarted, although he had no obvious proof for that. Things were getting out of hand. Ramirez was still somewhere out there, and despite his insistence the police didn't search the Winter Palace. The Queen refused to agree to his deal with France and the Prime Minister had just called off a meeting. Things were definitely turning for the worse.

Maybe, he should call somebody to take care of his problem before it was too late.

***

_When Clarisse left the hospital room, Joe could immediately see it was over. There was only one explanation for her facial expression. The King was dead. Rupert Renaldi had left this world._

_The Archbishop and two doctors followed her, busy exchanging glances and nervous whispers while she was silent. Of course, she didn't cry a tear or allowed herself to appear as weak as she felt._

_He, of course, remained in the background. He could imagine the machinery that was starting right now. Seeing Clarisse's tired face he only wished to tear her away from everything that would come down on her right now. With the monarch gone, leaving the responsibility to her, who would allow her to grieve? Who would allow her to find herself in all this trouble? He felt responsible for her and yet he didn't want to interfere, not until she wanted him to._

_"Joseph?" Her voice reached his ear and he stepped forward._

_"Your Majesty?"_

_"Would you care to inform His Royal Highness of the King's death? I wish for him to join me in a prayer in the hospital chapel."_

_"Of course, your Majesty." He bowed formally, knowing this was what protocol demanded, but inside he only wished to hold her. "May I pay – on behalf of the entire security team - my condolences for His Majesty's death?"_

_"Thank you, Joseph," she responded mildly. "The King found his peace. Will you join us to thank God for his life?"_

_"I'd be honoured."_

***

Joe nervously paced the room while Charlotte stood by and watched him. She had no idea what had happened between the Queen and him, but she instinctively felt their relationship was seriously damaged since Clarisse had refused to talk to Joseph for two days.

"Charlotte, please, you have to tell her to visit me up here. It's urgent and important."

"Well, she has given orders to let you know she doesn't wish to speak to you. I'm sorry, but that's what she told me."

"Tell her, if she won't come up I'll come down," Joe said in frustration. "She needs to listen to me!"

"I'll try my best," Charlotte promised half-heartedly, because she knew that plea would fall on deaf ears.

Joe who closely observed her sensed her reluctance. She wasn't on his side. Had Clarisse confided in her? Or was it just one woman supporting another? "For the time being, you should just stay here. This place is as safe as it can be."

"Can you do me a favour, Charlotte?" She was his only chance. She had to help him.

"Well…"

"Give me a piece of paper and a pen… I'm going to write a message for someone who needs to be informed. Please make sure the letter reaches this person. And tell Her Majesty, if she doesn't want to talk, alright, but in that case I won't stay here – imprisoned. I didn't leave one prison to end up in another."

***

_The rain had been falling for hours and so far there had been no sign of the sun. It was late afternoon, dusk would set in to shroud Genovia in darkness._

_Clarisse sighed. Rupert had been dead for three months and she still found it hard to bear to be alone in this big suite, knowing he would never enter a room again. Life had become harder, more complicated after his death. Parliament had put pressure on her and Philippe, because they wanted him to take over the throne. She was only a steward until Philippe would take over, but he had to make up his mind. Clarisse knew he felt rushed into something he wasn't prepared for. He had no wife, no official heir and so far there was no woman who he found himself in love with. She had done her best to convince him of what she had known long before Rupert died. Philippe had the makings of a King, he only needed to come to terms with himself and his life._

_What had actually happened to him, she couldn't say and maybe she shouldn't, but he had called her an hour ago to tell her that he had finally made his decision and would come over for a visit from his little cottage on the grounds of the Winter Palace to talk to her. The knot in her stomach had been there the whole day but it had intensified after Philippe's call. She was nervous, almost scared. Soon, she wouldn't be Queen anymore. Soon, she would be freed from her responsibilities as a monarch. Not that she dared to imagine what the consequences would be… she couldn't even imagine to have time for herself. Time to think about her life, maybe doing some charity thing, starting over to take care of her stud, a hobby she had abandoned when Rupert had become too ill and needed her constant help and attention… and then there was Joseph._

_Of course, Joseph. Was there a future for them? A possibility of growing closer… of getting to know each other? The thought increased her heartbeat. If only…_

_"Excuse me, Madam?"_

_There he was. In the doorway of her suite, dripping wet. In his arms she noticed a white bundle of curly fur._

_"Joseph?"_

_"Maurice, Ma'am. He escaped Olivia on the grounds and we finally found him hiding from the rain under the shrubs… he's a bit wet, but unhurt."_

_"Oh thank you, Joseph… I wonder if there'll be a day when he won't run away!"_

_She quickly crossed the room, grabbed a sheet out of his basket to free Joseph from the wet puppy. Joseph watched her with a growing smile, as she rubbed the dog's fur and received a low languorous groan in response. He loved to see her like this. The dog had been the King's last Christmas present to his wife and he knew she loved the puppy dearly. Bringing him back to her after his latest escape was a welcome excuse to spend a little time with her. It was Sunday afternoon. The maids had the day off and Charlotte was out of town. Finally some time to talk to her in private._

_"Well, I guess, he's quite headstrong for a poodle."_

_"Well, Rupert chose him. That should have told me something from the very beginning," she smiled down on the puppy. Maurice seemed quite satisfied since he yawned whole-heartedly and rolled himself into the cushion of his basket, closing his eyes demonstratively to let his mistress know he was tired now._

_"Don't you think, you should change? I don't want you to catch a cold," she said worriedly, rising from the floor._

_"Oh…," he cleared his throat and shook his head. He hadn't been aware of the fact he was dripping on her floor. "Maybe, I should…"_

_"And after that you could join me for a cup of tea." She blushed, realizing it had sounded like an order. "If you wish," she added shyly._

_"I would love to."_

***

Motaz stood in front of Clarisse's desk. His hands were sweating and he felt incredibly nervous. The result of the second DNA test had left him speechless and had surpassed his wildest expectations, as it had Clarisse's. He could read in her face that she was just as stunned as he was. Her eyes clung to the letters and she shook her head in disbelief…

"Well, that's a surprise."

"Indeed… in my opinion the result makes it possible to minimize the group of suspects to one or two persons."

"Three to be exact," Clarisse drew a deep breath. "But who and why… and how? I mean…"

"It's on us to find out how and why," Motaz said, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Anything else you wish to tell me?" She asked.

"Actually, yes, Madam… There's a visitor waiting outside. I think she has her own theory about what happened."

Clarisse raised her eyebrow. "You brought her here?"

"Yes, I know what happened between your son and her has affected all of us, but I've been under the impression that you had forgiven her."

"Well, I haven't. And I don't wish to speak to her."

"I think you should rethink that decision of yours." Francesca had boldly entered the room and didn't wait for permission to approach Clarisse's desk.

"How dare you…" Clarisse took her glasses off and rose from her chair. Francesca curtsied in front of the desk and bowed her head.

"If you'll allow, Prime Minister, I would love to talk to her Majesty in private."

Clarisse dismissed Motaz with a wave of her hand and he hurried to leave the suite, he considered more a Lion's den than royal quarters these days.

Once alone, both women glared at one another.

"Joe passed a message to me. So you know…" Frankie started after a while.

"Yes, I do know. I don't know what is worse, the fact that I sensed it and told myself not to believe it or that I started trusting you again."

"You can trust me and you can trust Joe. We both know that."

"I'm not so sure about this and now I want you to go!"

"After everything I've done for you?" Frankie asked flabbergasted.

"Let's not go there. Everything you did was either motivated by your bad conscious or the wish to be close to him again. I don't need that kind of help!" Clarisse sat down again, rubbing her forehead. Another headache arrived and fuelled her wish to destroy something – anything just to get rid off the unbearable pain inside her.

"Alright, alright… you're right about my bad conscious. I know I hurt Pierre and I know I hurt you, but the reason Joe never told you was that you wouldn't understand it… you're so… pure and holy in his eyes… how could he tell you what he did, even though it happened before you even noticed him?"

Clarisse lifted her head and looked at Francesca, pure disbelief written all over her face.

"We both knew that is the truth. It happened before he fell in love with you. Or do you think he had ever paid me a look, if he had loved you?" Francesca stood right in front of Clarisse's desk now, her hands supporting her weight, as she leaned on it, bending forward. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks blushed and Clarisse couldn't help but to be impressed by her. Was there someone or something this woman was actually afraid of?

"I know Pierre is your son and you love him and believe me, there was a time when I loved him to be, but it wasn't meant to be… we weren't meant to be."

"And yet he is my son, and you and my husband betrayed him," Clarisse added. "I cannot condone something like that. Maybe as Queen I could, but as a mother I can't."

"And you can condone that your country ends up in the hands of an impostor, because you are mother of someone who got his heart broken twenty years ago?" It was a harsh provocation, but it caused a reaction.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to push your resentments towards my person aside, until this man and his henchmen are brought to justice!"

Clarisse didn't answer at first. She studied Francesca's face, unsure what to do. Her heart wrenched by the idea of seeing her, trusting and working with her. It hurt, because her instincts had warned her and her love for Joseph had blinded her.

"Look Majesty… with all respect," Francesca tried to remain calm. "I know the King died of Aids…" Clarisse lost her colour. "But I haven't used that knowledge against you, I did my best to make another DNA test possible and my father hates me more than ever before since he knew I was in the King's suite. What I want to say is that this isn't only your party any longer. It's mine too and I'll fight this man. I haven't taken all this risks to let you stomp on me for a mistake I made a lifetime ago! So will you allow me to help you or do you prefer to stick your head in the sand?"

***

_She wore black. She was a widow. He knew she was grieving for the man who had been her husband for almost 40 years. He had been her companion and her King, so it was natural for her to feel sad over his loss. He couldn't even imagine what it must be to lose the person who you had been linked to, as spouses in general were. She had been the only person he had felt that close to, although he never had the chance to be more than a friend. _

_  
What disturbed him was the ring on her finger. The piece of jewellery graced her hand as the symbol of her bond to Rupert Renaldi. Even if she was a widow and therefore free to love any man she wanted, she was still the late King's wife. She would never be free. Maybe after her son had become King, she could allow herself to have "dates" with suitable partners like DeLesseps or Mabrey. He was just an employee. He wasn't sure, if she still loved him. Nothing in her behaviour told him what her feelings for him were. _

_  
His love for her had only grown over the years. It had matured and become something that made him a better person. It still hurt, because it was hopeless and yet his life was like a silent river dedicated to her and its destination was the endless sea. He was at peace with himself._

_"Are you sure, you're listening to me, Joseph?" Her saying his name in that incredible voice of hers woke him out of his daydream. Did he stare at her? What did she say?_

_"Of course, I do, Ma'am." He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment, because he had indeed stared at her._

_"Well," she continued with a sigh of relief, "I can't tell you how happy it makes me that Philippe has decided to become King… all these struggles in Parliament and the trouble with the press and the people will be over – finally."_

_They sat by the fireplace, a pleasant fire spread warmth while the world outside became darker as the rain grew stronger._

_"Yes, I think the Prince will be a good King."_

_"God knows he needed a lot of time to make a decision," Clarisse said and turned her attention from the fire back to Joe._

_"Don't you like the tea?" she asked when she saw his cup was almost full._

_"I like the tea," he answered, but put the cup aside. "Let's say I'm distracted." He removed her cup from her hands and placed it on the coffee table. Then he took her hands in his and let his thumb circle over the back. They were warm, but he noticed she was trembling beneath her perfect façade._

_"Why am I here?" he asked tenderly, establishing eye contact with her. "Why today?"_

_"Things are changing," she explained lowly._

_"Are they?" he asked surprised. "I have my problems to believe it… it's been so long."_

_It was a simple confession and yet he was helpless. He had kept his distance from her for such a long time that he didn't know how to cross the invisible lines between them. Even touching her the way he did right now seemed to go too far. Her skin felt like velvet under his caressing fingertips. He had dreamt about touching her, had tried to imagine the emotions that would run through him once he got the chance to be with her, undisturbed and unwatched. What he felt now was surpassing his highest expectations. The light contact was enough to make him forget all reservations. Boundaries faded to exist, just like the distance between them. Who bent forward first he couldn't say, maybe it was him, possibly her. Her warm breath brushed against his lips, her hands came to rest on his face, holding it and tracing it with great care. The smile in her eyes took possession of her face and deepened the soft wrinkles around her eyes. It took the fear inside him away and lightened his spirits. Who could care about tomorrow when this was happening?_

_As their mouths met for the very first time, her fingers folded around his neck and massaged tenderly. Her eyes closed, as both adjusted to the shy contact. She tasted as he had imagined: the usual hint of tea mixed with the natural taste, her scent had promised him all along. His lips moved slightly against her mouth which opened for him like a blossoming flower. Unable to ignore the teasing invitation, he ran the tip of his tongue over her lower lip before he allowed himself to deepen the kiss._

_Leaving his chair he drew her into his embrace and knelt on the floor in front of her chair. Their bodies touched and he couldn't help but groan when she pressed her body fully against his. They got lost in each other while exploring the other and letting the unfulfilled love of two decades rein._

_The kiss went on and on, lured them into a world where only they existed, until a loud bark from Maurice announced fast approaching footsteps in front of Clarisse suite. Startled they jerked apart, awaiting a knock that never happened._

_Without further warning Charlotte stormed into the suite, tears streaming unchecked over her face, her voice trembling when she addressed Clarisse who was still caught in Joseph's arms._

_"Your Majesty… an accident…"_

***

Unnerved by the scenery outside her bedroom, Clarisse checked her appearance in the mirror. She had chosen a simple but elegant gown. Not too much cleavage, not too covering, just enough to keep the man's attention until she'd receive the sign everything had gone well.

Several days had passed since she had forced herself to think about her country whose best interests she had always had at heart. She had swallowed her pride and allowed Francesca DeLesseps to help her. Not that she had talked to Joseph. He had sent her messages through Charlotte which she had answered with stubborn silence. Only a few hours ago she had ordered Charlotte to give him a hint, to let him know, his time in "jail" would be over soon – at least that was what she hoped for. The mission in London should have begun one hour ago. Now it was time to let her show begin.

"That was the last thing I expected to happen," the King said half-amused, half-suspicious. "An invitation from you, and so suddenly, is certainly something to make me think!"

He toasted Clarisse who hadn't touched her champagne so far. The situation was ridiculous. And if he wasn't a complete fool he knew she was up to something.

"Well, I think the matter with France is important enough to discuss it in private, don't you agree?" Clarisse asked coldly and leaned a bit back as Felix, the waiter, served the first of two starters.

"It is. But I had hoped for a different kind of conversation to begin our evening with," he retorted meaningfully and picked up the cutlery.

"Thank you, Felix. You can go now," Clarisse said and waited for the door to be closed before she continued. "You know, I thought since France plays an important matter in all this, it is the perfect subject for our conversation," Clarisse ran her finger over the edge of her glass. "The Prime Minister and I talked to the French President a few hours ago. The deal with France is dead."

"Excuse me?" He turned pale.

"Let's say the French have no interest in doing business with… more or less… backwards…forces." She leaned forward, folding her fingers. "Did you really think I would let you sell my country to the French state? My country that has fought for its independence for centuries!"

"It's best for Genovia to rely on a strong partner at such times." He put the cutlery back on the table.

"We know both that partnership wasn't what you and your friends had in mind! But the charade ends here and now."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I think I do know. You and your friends decided to bring down the monarchy in Genovia and it was your plan to let France annex us again – for a lot of money into your pockets of course!"

"No power to those on the throne!" She made a face. "Wasn't that the slogan your party used when the attacks on Rupert and me first started? And now 20 years after we banned your club you decided to come up with another plan to bring us down. Murder wasn't good enough and so your friends brought someone to Genovia who looked like Rupert. They installed him as Head of State who suggests laws to reduce the last remaining power the royal family still has….Then, after some time, quite slowly and without awakening the public's interest the members of Parliament are replaced by members of the republican party, just as the leading figures of the media and important agencies of the state are replaced with people from your sorry little group of fanatics. People who hated Rupert since he day he banned them from their country. Sooner or later Genovia becomes a democratic state… no royal family, no pomp and circumstances... not that I see anything bad in this, but what would be the price? Maybe, you'll retire to some South American country, while Mia and I conveniently die in a car crash or something like that…" She leaned back. "Did you think this could work out? Did you really think the Genovian public would be stupid enough to abandon its pride and its independence to become a step-child of France again?"

"I can only repeat myself. You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Of course, you do… although I don't know why you did it. Was it so irresistible to play King? I never thought you were interested in power plays and psychological experiments!"

He didn't answer, but she could read in his face that her words had hit home, because they were true. She couldn't believe how easy it had been once she had known who the man in front of her really was. She had been blind to the nearby truth, because she couldn't imagine that family bonds didn't mean the world to someone.

"It wasn't my plan to hurt you," he finally said. "I wouldn't have done anything to you, but certain people around me had to believe I would, in case you didn't cooperate."

"How reassuring," she said bitterly and emptied half of her champagne glass.

"Your Majesty," unheard and unseen, because Clarisse had focused on the man at the table, Francesca entered the room. She was slowly approaching the table, both hands hidden behind her back. "Motaz just called. Our mission in London was successful. As far as we can estimate, the entire group was arrested. They bought the red herring of our King's message and the Police caught them all."

"Thank you, Francesca."

"Excuse me, please," Francesca removed the King's untouched plate and instead placed an old photograph on the table. "I found this in your suite a few nights ago. Don't be sorry that you don't remember, the pills in your champagne were quite strong. I couldn't risk to have you wake up."

Frankie took a seat next to him and pointed onto the picture. "You know I've always wondered how it was possible to find someone who looked like the late King… he had no male siblings, no twin… The only thing he certainly had enough of was cousins, spread all over Europe. The analysis of the strand of your hair I borrowed a few days ago showed that your hair is not only dyed grey, it also proved that to some extent you are indeed related to Rupert Renaldi. The rest was just a question of investigation and combination. Out of your three cousins only one could be the impostor, since the others could be found in their various homes. Do I have to go on, Monsieur, or do you know the meaning of the words 'Game Over'?"

Again the man stayed silent and this time Clarisse took the picture and looked at it. It was a black and white shot and showed a bunch of young men who had climbed up in a tree and laughed straight into the camera.

"Rupert often told me about this day… you all had met to celebrate his 21st birthday. You were there too, although his father didn't want him to invite you. But he didn't care and simply did what he thought was right. To him, you were a part of his family. Why do you disgrace him like this now, Richard?" Clarisse gave him the photo and bent forward. He had given her a startled glance when she used his name but he soon recovered from the shock and wore his poker face again. "I'm glad he is dead and doesn't have to witness what you wanted to do to his country and his family. Mia is his heir and you tried to destroy her future."

"Mia is safe – and a life without being Queen would be a better life for her. Look what this life did to you. You're caught in the machinery of a corrupt system, in power games and lies. Don't you think it's time to stop this?" He leaned back, tired of the charade he had played for the last few weeks.

"Not if people have to die for it! Not as long as this country is worth the effort and you know it is worth every single tear."

He smirked and rose from his chair. "If you believe that… What will you do now? Go to the press to tell everyone that the illegitimate son of Rupert's uncle has taken over the throne? A man who is just a plumber?" He laughed and added: "Good luck with that. Except some stolen evidence that won't be allowed in court, there's nothing that actually links me to the Renaldis. I don't exist in their official bloodline."

"Well, I heard worse stories," Francesca said. "It was perfect. Your people stayed here over the summer to install the new bathroom for Princess Mia. You weren't here to supervise their work and it came to delays – comfortable delays, because that way your 'workers' or should I say partners in crime, could find out everything about the hidden passages in the Palace. You used them later to pay Her Majesty a few unwelcome visits and it helped you to avoid the cameras your men couldn't switch off. I just wonder when you had the surgery to 'adjust' your face… not that it needed much for you to look like him, as we can see on the picture."

"I've always had contact with some of the founders of the GRP. Some of them I know from school. When they came to me to explain their plan, I was sceptical, but in the end I agreed, because they were right. I heard and saw enough of Amelia to know that she was a nice girl, but didn't have the makings of a Queen. Pierre was a priest, Philippe dead and Clarisse… well, she deserved a life of her own." He shrugged and proceeded bitterly: "I had hoped you would simply take your husband and leave the country. What has this family ever given to you? You were bought by Rupert for a family title and dedicated your life to this pompous circus! God, I wished you had left!"

"You don't know me very well, but well, that lies in the blood."

"Wait, wait a minute," Francesca interrupted them. "It's not that I can't understand your motivation… although it's rather sick… it must hurt to be ignored by one's family, but what has Pierre to do with all this? Why him? He was no threat to you!"

"Pierre may be a priest, but he is still a Renaldi. I didn't want him to get involved, but we needed a person to support my case, so to speak. And he was an easy target… unhappy, self-conscious and convinced his mother had been unfaithful to his beloved father. He had always worshipped the ground Rupert walked on. If we could make him believe, he was alive, it would be a lot harder for the rest of the family to ignore me."

"So, you drugged him…" Clarisse shook her head in disgust.

"It wasn't my idea, but he proved to be quite reluctant to buy my story. We had to make sure he would cooperate."

"And the Archbishop… he didn't cooperate either and you gave him a little hit on the head," Frankie concluded sarcastically. "I bet you used one of the passages to overwhelm him that night. Did you invite him for a chat and faked the entry in Joe's diary and placed the evidence to frame him in his pockets and the trash bins?"

"I didn't kill anyone. I wish there had been another way to get rid of him, but he knew too much. You see, he was there when I married my ex-wife… we couldn't risk that he'd realize who I was."

"You framed Joseph for it… why?" Clarisse asked. "What has he done to you?"

"He was becoming too nosey. We had to change our plans when we realized the two of you wouldn't play along, we needed to keep you occupied with something other than politics. A mistake… you aren't the person who can let go."

"Don't dare to tell me, it was my fault!" she hissed, pushed her chair back and straightened up. "This is your sick game, not mine!"

"And who killed the holy man, if not you?" Francesca asked, eager to get all the answers they needed.

"As I told you before… someone in the Palace had an eye on me all the time."

"And who is it? Believe me, Motaz' men can't wait to lay their hands on him or her… and you of course," Frankie drew out her cell phone and started dialling a number.

"The man is already here – maybe listening at the door. It's Felix."

"Don't be ridiculous," Clarisse snapped, thinking about all the times Felix had seen her with Joseph while he stood around without showing to notice something. "He has been working for us for years!"

"Yes, but only because he couldn't get another job." He smirked. "He is no paying member of the GRP, but his heart beats for 'Les Miserables'. You can't trust anyone, can you?"

"I'll call Shades!" Frankie got up from her chair quickly and rushed to the door.

"What will you do with me?" he asked Clarisse. "Will you throw me in jail just like the others?"

Clarisse gave him an estimating look. She wanted to lock him somewhere and throw away the key and the memory of him.

"Actually, I don't know… and it's not on me to decide… we have laws in this country and those laws will judge you!"

***


	20. Chapter 20

_Deep inside both of us can feel the autumn chill  
Birds of passage, you and me  
We fly instinctively  
When the summers over and the dark clouds hide the sun  
Neither you nor I'm to blame when all is said and done  
_

**Chapter 19**

A chilly breeze messed up Elsie Kentworthy's hair and made it impossible for her to look into the camera. Strands of her hair ended up in her mouth, disturbed her sight and tickled her nose. While cursing quite audibly she tried to brush it back with the micro still in her hand. The camera man found the scene too silly to be annoyed with Elsie. He knew her days at the Genovian TV station were counted since her reports about the late King had turned out to be nothing but lies. Today was her last day in charge and it was one Genovia and the rest of the world wouldn't forget. It was also the day of the coronation of Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi as Queen of Genovia.

What exactly happened one week ago when Prime Minister Motaz had made the official announcement that the man who the world thought was the King wasn't Rupert Renaldi, remained a secret. But one day after the Prime Minister, the man himself had released a short note in which he had confessed his misdeeds and admitted to have been bribed by the same political party that had once tried to kill the King and his family. He had apologized and had offered his full cooperation in case his statement in court would be needed. Where he was now, no one knew. There was a rumour Queen Clarisse herself had agreed to hide him from an attack of revenge by still hidden or unknown sympathizers of the group but they were just that - rumours.

What had been far more interesting was that the Queen's husband had been cleared of all charges – despite him escaping jail - and another person had been arrested for the murder of the Archbishop. A footman of the Queen had confessed the murder to destabilize the church in Genovia and to install a new Bishop who had been paid an awful lot of money to legalize the impostor as King. The Bishop was in jail and a new one had arrived only a few days ago, in his package an apology from the Pope himself. The killer himself sat in jail and waited for his trial.

The camera man sighed. It was quite mysterious and he wasn't sure he had grasped all of it. Maybe, there was no need to. All that counted was that his country was in safe hands again. He liked the young woman who was going to be his Queen and he appreciated that Queen Clarisse didn't hesitate to step down to allow her country to move on.

He laughed as Elsie finally got a hold on her hair. One hand on the top of her head, keeping her hair from blowing in the wind, the other one clutching the microphone while she did her best to continue her report…

"As I said, it is still unknown if the Queen's husband will appear today. Rumour has it that the marriage has become quite rocky and maybe the Queen will ask the next Archbishop to annul her marriage to her former Head of Security…"

The camera man rolled his eyes. Some things really never changed…

***

Clarisse drew a deep breath, as she closed the door behind her. The coronation was over – finally. She was no longer Queen. Just the Queen's grandmother, Genovia's Dowager Queen, the Duchess of Pyrus. For a very long time she had done her best to imagine how it would feel and now that she knew she was a bit disappointed. She was free now. It was on her to live her life every damn way she pleased. The world was open to her and so far it felt just empty. Sure, Mia had assured her she still needed her Grandmother's advice and her support, but deep down Clarisse doubted she would make a good supportive figure.

Her eyes roamed her suite; it was still cleared of most of her furniture and would stay that way. Mia didn't know it yet, but she had no intention to move back into this Palace. She had something in mind for her new home, although it was more an idea, not a real plan. The next night she would spend in another suite and tomorrow was the day to decide what she intended to do with her new life.

She slowly crossed the room and removed the small crown she had received after Mia had been crowned. She had caught Joseph's small smile when she had been finally freed from her burden, but she couldn't return it.

First of all, she didn't feel like smiling, because she was losing her job, the only thing she had ever learned and secondly, she hadn't expected him to be there. Most probably, Amelia had invited him and why shouldn't she? After all, he had always been a friend to her, even at times when Clarisse herself had found it hard to get along with Mia.

She had also ignored Francesca DeLesseps, who would be knighted in a few days and receive the title of a Duchess for her diplomatic and political efforts to expose the wrong King. Actually, it had been her last signature as Queen when she agreed to the Prime Minister's suggestion to knight Francesca. She was aware of the irony of the situation, but she couldn't deny her the honour after everything she had done and had planted her signature on the paper.

"I see you plan to renovate."

She frowned when she heard his voice. He still knew how to sneak into a room. Turning to him she said frostily: "You startled me!"

"I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention," he apologized gently. "I just wondered where you are. The reception isn't over yet."

"I needed some time to myself," she answered and carefully placed the crown on the empty desk. It was already covered with dust that was now dancing in the sunlight filling the room.

"The last days have been exhausting for you… You could have waited with the coronation. Just to calm down a bit."

"No," she shook her head. "I wanted a clean cut. As soon as possible. Genovia needs a fresh start."

"And Mia is perfect to guarantee that," he remarked with a hint of dryness in his voice.

"Exactly."

Silence fell and she avoided his eyes. There were many things left unsay between them, but right now she couldn't think of anything. Never before did she find it so difficult to communicate with him. After a few moments he was the one who broke the silence.

"Motaz told me that you agreed to knight Francesca. That's very noble of you."

"She deserves it for everything she has done for this country. She paid her dues rather well," Clarisse said. "Not that it changes my opinion about her."

"And I guess your opinion of me hasn't changed either." He sighed and slowly moved towards her.

"Actually, I don't know what to think of you… It's hard to see you and her without thinking about the two of you."

"It happened over twenty years ago, Clarisse… it was nothing compared to us! I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I was afraid to lose you! I know what your son and his happiness means to you!"

"Well, my son is sick and unhappy," she said sadly. "But I'm not blaming Francesca or you for that… He can only blame himself for the way he lived. What I blame you for is not telling me the truth! I feel like an utter fool in your presence now!"

Joe sighed. He had known it before. He knew she would feel cheated by him, especially after she told him about Rupert's indiscreet affair. Of course, she felt fooled once again.

He approached her and laid his hands on her shoulders. When he addressed her again his voice was strong and his eyes penetrated hers.

"I never wanted to make you unhappy, Clarisse. Before she returned I hadn't thought of her in years! You were the only woman on my mind! You're still the only woman on my mind! I love you, Clarisse, and every day without you has been hell for me!"

"I miss you too," she admitted and gently freed herself from him. "It's just that I don't know what to think or feel. I'm confused and I'm not used to it, so please let me be."

"I know all this has been hard on you! But we can survive this… Look, you're free now. If we want to, we can leave this country tomorrow; go on a vacation. We can talk about everything and find our way back together!" He was full of ideas how to spend his time with her. If she would only go with him, he would do everything in his power to convince her of his love for her. If she only let him, he could prove he wasn't the jerk she considered him to be at the moment.

"It's not my wish to leave Genovia at this time… Mia needs me and to be honest I need her too."

"We can stay here then!" he suggested enthusiastically. "We can do anything you want!"

"I'm afraid right now it's not my wish to be with you," she stated simply and he lost his colour. "I don't wish to hurt you, but right now I need some time for myself, to figure out who I am and what I want."

"I see… I guess that includes finding out, if you still want me." He was in shock. It was unthinkable to be apart from her. They hadn't been apart for two decades and now she told him she needed a separation.

"Do you want a divorce?" he asked bluntly. "I mean, we're still married… do you want to change that?"

She shook her head, slightly but visibly. "No, I don't wish to divorce you. Not now. I just want some time alone. I can't make any kind of decision right now. I think we've proven that we should find out first who we really are before we try again to make our marriage work."

Part of him was relieved. At least she didn't cut him out of her life for good. She didn't ask for a divorce… at least she granted him some hope.

"I guess it's my turn to leave then," he concluded and turned on his heels. To stay longer would only be more painful for him. God knew he should be used to her rejection. No other woman had ever held so much power over him. No other woman had ever hurt him like that. However, there was a certain gentleness in her voice that kept him from leaving.

"Actually, it's on Mia to decide that. I haven't told her yet, but I'll move out as soon as possible and this is your home too. I'm sure you can stay, if you want."

"You're moving out?" He was dumbfounded. He could barely imagine not to be at her side, but even less for her not to live in the Genovian Palace.

"Yes… You know, even with Mia being Queen I would only continue giving orders and I want her to adjust to her new role without me breathing down her neck. She needs to learn how to get along here all by herself. If she needs my help she can ask for it, but I won't stay to complicate things!"

"Have you really thought that out?" he asked concerned, because he saw her moving into a direction she might regret later on. He didn't want her to give up the only life she had ever known for something she thought was freedom.

"No," she admitted boldly. "But for now it's what I have to do."

***

_The ball had been over for some time now and Joe had sent the waiters and footmen to bed after they had cleared up the most of the mess the guests and especially the press had created. _

_He had taken off the jacket of his tux and had loosened the disturbing bow tie. With a glass of champagne in his hand he roamed the rooms, aimless and agitated. The evening had been exciting. Mia's speech of acceptance had shaken up everything and he wondered when the young girl would start to regret her brave decision. Not that he really cared for that right now. At the moment, he only cared for another woman. He hadn't seen Clarisse this happy in ages. She had done it. She had saved the Genovian people from the greedy claws of the Van Trokens and had found the way to her granddaughter's heart. And, the most important thing for him, she had relied on him like never before. Though they never crossed the line as they had almost done before they had grown closer than he could have ever hoped for. _

_When he led her away from the party, he had taken her hand into his and had, unseen by anyone, placed a gentle kiss on it. As a gesture of affection she had cupped his cheek and before she retired into her rooms she had kissed his cheek. Every now and then he touched the point where her lips had left their invisible mark. Their last real kiss had been interrupted by the awful news of Prince Philippe's death and sometimes he wondered if they had been cursed by someone or something. Every time they got closer, something came between them. Grief and a sadness he had never observed in her before had poisoned her life and as a consequence she had created a wall around herself. He knew she needed to protect herself from the world and the pain, but that wasn't a healthy way to cope with the loss of a child and a husband. _

_Fortunately she had come around and in his heart he hoped his constant support and silent love for her had been a help in those dark times. _

_He heard low steps behind him and turned around slowly. He had to hold his breath when he saw she was entering the ballroom. Her pace slowed and the sound of her high heels faded when she realized he had noticed her. Almost shy she stopped moving and waited for his reaction. Only that he didn't know how to react. She was too stunning, too beautiful to say or do anything. Her sight bewitched him and for a second he asked himself if the champagne was to blame and her sudden appearance just an illusion. _

_She seemed amused when she saw the disbelief written all over his face and started moving towards him again. _

"_You're wearing black," he said huskily as she approached him. His eyes were glued to her body that was covered in a dream of black silk and lace. He could count the exposed freckles on her skin above the neckline of the nightgown. The mere thought of why she was with him right now, wearing such an alluring outfit made him swallow. His heart bumped forcefully in his chest and he felt nervous like a school boy. _

"_Since my Head of Security is always wearing black I thought he might like the colour," she answered meaningfully as her eyes searched for contact with his. _

"_I think if he was here, he would be overwhelmed." His hands were trembling as he put the glass on the floor. He remembered a similar moment between them in the Winter Palace. That night they had danced and he had fully understood his feelings for her, had become aware that he had fallen completely for his Queen and another man's wife. _

"_And where is he now?" _

"_He has retired… at least for today." _

"_That's a pity," she said and started to play with his opened collar. "There's so much I wanted to thank him for… he saved me today, you know." _

"_I'm sure he just did his duty," he lowered his eyes and watched her fingers on his collar as they sneaked their way into his shirt. _

"_Oh I know he did so much more… and I don't know how to repay him." _

_Damn, if she was trying to seduce him, she succeeded. Her fingertips touched his chest and he felt himself losing his patience with their game. "Well, if you're only here to thank me, you shouldn't tease me like this," he said and caught her hand in his. "Please, don't." _

"_I'm not teasing you, Joseph. I just need to know something… why did you ask me to dance that afternoon after Mia left?" _

"_You don't know?" he asked a bit disappointedly. Since when did they need many words to communicate? She shook her head with a thoughtful smile. _

"_I would like to hear you say it." _

_Still in some state of shock he absentmindedly played with her fingers and when he failed to feel her wedding ring his gaze went down to her hand. She had removed her ring before she came to him. _

"_Where's your ring?" he asked confusedly. _

"_I took it off…" Her voice trailed off. "I noticed you found it quite disturbing." _

"_Well, I did," he admitted honestly without taking his eyes off her naked finger. "But why did you remove it today?" _

"_Maybe I'm tired of dancing." A sparkle flickered in her blue eyes and her hand cupped his face. The tenderness in her caress made him shiver. He revelled in her gesture of affection and closed his eyes. He kissed the inside of her hand and she let her free arm slip around his neck. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her body against his. For a while, they leaned against each other and enjoyed the silence of the moment. He inhaled her scent and found his lips gliding over her forehead. _

"_We'll have to be very careful from now on," he whispered as he kissed his way down her face. "We can't take any risks." _

"_Believe me when I tell you I've lived risky for a very long time by now," she mumbled as their lips met in a feathery kiss. _

"_There's nothing I wouldn't do to be with you." His mouth nuzzled her neck and she pressed her full length against him, eager to be closer. _

"_But it'll take time until Mia is ready to take over. It could take years before I can retire," she backed off a little and gave him a questioning look. "Are you sure, you really want this… I might have taken this ring off, but it doesn't mean I'm free to live the way I want to. We can't be together in public…" she was doubtful, but his heart was over-flooding with love and happiness. He wouldn't dream of rejecting her 'indiscreet' proposal. _

"_We can hide whenever and wherever you want as long as we can be together!" He smiled and lifted her up. She made a weak attempt to protest but smiled down on him when he whirled her around. "We can remain in the shadows for as long as necessary!" _

_He put her down and moved her backwards against one of the pillars. "You really love me, do you?" she asked with a smile on her face. _

"_I guess I have to when I chase your granddaughter around the entire city in the rain and let her stomp on my feet for several weeks. To me that means I love you more than life itself!" _

"_She isn't that bad!" Clarisse laughed. "Thanks to you, she really improved!" His hands ran tenderly over her body, discovering the parts that her nightclothes were covering. Enjoying his touch she leaned back against the pillar and allowed her desire to come to life. _

"_But she is not as gracious as her beautiful grandmother." His hand took possession of her thigh and slowly pulled the soft material of her dressing gown up. She swallowed when she felt his growing arousal against her hip and said huskily: "You know I was serious when I said, I'm tired of dancing." She caressed the back of his neck. He raised his eyebrow and she recognized a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "You know every time we danced I promised myself, the next time I held you in my arms, I wouldn't dance with you." _

_She chuckled softly and stopped his hand's forceful assault on her upper leg. "Will you follow me to a less public place to fulfil your promise – finally?" _

"_Anything you ask me to," he answered. She took his hand and moving backwards she guided him through the ballroom to the staircase that lead upstairs to her rooms… _

***

Winter passed slowly in Genovia and it was already March when the last snow finally melted and the first signs of spring arrived. Unhappy to stay in the Palace without Clarisse, Joe had decided to move out shortly after Clarisse.

He had left the country and had finally ended up in Spain. Close to Madrid his family owned an old estate where he tried to settle– and did nothing besides enjoying the countryside and thinking about the meaning of life on the porch of the house.

He received regular letters from Mia who of course didn't miss to write about every detail of Clarisse's "new life". To his surprise she had decided to buy a stud where she had restarted to breed horses. Mia had even added pictures of her new estate and her grandmother. Obviously the shots were taken when she wasn't paying any attention. She looked carefree and relaxed while patting a new black horse she bought. She seemed content and it made him happy to know she was coming to terms with her life. Aside from the horses, she had discovered another job she put a lot of energy in and maybe that was what made him even more proud of her. He smiled at her picture in the newspaper that announced her arrival in Madrid in a few days. Maybe he should…

He used to answer Mia's letters with descriptions of his rather boring life with his older brother and his wife who lived only a few minutes away. But he kept the photos of Clarisse with him wherever he went and at night they graced his nightstand. He couldn't say his life had taken a better turn after he had left Genovia, but to be in another country had a healing impact on him. Had he stayed, everything would have reminded him of her. Even if she was just the Dowager Queen her influence was still there. She was everywhere. In newspapers, pictures, on TV. Here, hundreds of kilometres away, he felt safer, because she wasn't present each and every day. But this kind of pain was familiar since he had had to live with it for almost 20 years, before they could live out their love for each other. Today his life was just less exhausting. No criminals to haunt, no monarch to protect. He had a wife to love, but she was separated from him and she hadn't asked him to come home yet. Did she even know where he was, close to the city she would visit soon? Surely, Mia had told her…

***

The wind at the paddock was heavy and messed up Clarisse's hair while she, filled with childish pride, watched the coach working with the latest addition to her stables. It was a black mare who carried the majestic name of Arabella. When the horse approached the fence she patted its neck and exchanged a smile with the coach.

"She's doing fine, Ma'am," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. "You were right when you said she is a true star!"

"I just knew she'd be perfect when I bought her!" she explained and offered Arabella some reward for her successful training lesson.

"You're receiving a high visitor." The coach pointed over her shoulder and she turned. A black limousine stopped several meters away and a chauffeur climbed out of the vehicle.

"The Queen herself," she smirked. It had taken her some time but she had become accustomed to Mia's new title. "I guess we can stop for today. See you tomorrow, Jean."

"Alright, Ma'am. Have a nice afternoon!"

The coach and Arabella left while Mia hurried over the green grass to greet her grandmother.

"Grandma!" With a wide smile Mia wrapped her arms around Clarisse and kissed her cheeks. "It's so good to see you!"

"Hello, Darling!" Clarisse pulled back and smiled at her granddaughter. She didn't miss that under the make up and the smile Mia appeared rather pale. "How are you?" she asked innocently, trying to sound carefree.

"I'm fine," Mia obviously lied.

"Should we go inside to have some tea? I'm sure Charlotte will be happy to get away from her desk to arrange something for us!" She joked, but Mia shook her head. "Actually, I'm sitting around the whole day. Can't we just take a walk?"

"Of course."

Clarisse hooked her arm in Mia's elbow and they started slowly to walk away from the stables and the house. It was a sunny, but chilly spring day and the water drops from the rain in the morning glittered on the grass.

"So, tell me what's going on!" Clarisse demanded and Mia gave her puzzled glance. "Nothing… I just wanted to visit you. Actually, I had almost forgotten what you look like!" Mia hinted a bit sadly. "Besides… nice hair. That kind of blond fits you!"

"Thank you." Clarisse paid her sideways glance. The week before Clarisse had decided to do something about her hairstyle. She had rejected Paolo's advice and now her hair was shorter and the colour as a bit lighter than usual. "Well, I'm not out of the world, Mia. I told you to call me when you have trouble with Sebastian or the members of Parliament!"

"I don't have problems with Sebastian or Parliament… although these dodderers sometimes annoy the heck out of me!"

Clarisse laughed. "I can imagine that! But don't let them influence you. Believe it or not some of them told me they are quite impressed with you!"

"They talk to you behind my back?"

"Only when I ask them to! But Mia…" Clarisse stopped and put her hands on Mia's shoulders. "I can see something is wrong with you. Don't you want to tell me what it is?"

"Nicholas proposed to me," Mia said lowly and bent her head.

"But Mia… isn't that what you wanted?" She was confused and raised her eyebrow.

"Yes, sure… but…" Mia avoided her grandmother's eyes and tilted her head back. "I wanted it more than anything, but…"

"I thought you love him."

"Yes, I think, I do – I mean I know I do, but…"

"Come on…"

"You know something happened in San Francisco… I met Michael and Nicholas met Michael and we got along so well and then…"

"I'm all ears," Clarisse encouraged her gently.

"Well, one weekend Nicholas went to Los Angeles to meet some of his Cambridge friends. Michael and I went out that night… We had fun, we had some wine and…" She shrugged and made an apologetic face. Clarisse understood and for a second she didn't know what to say. Actually, that wasn't the kind of conversation she was eager to have with her granddaughter, but with Helen and Lilly on the other side of the world, she was the only person Mia could talk to.

"Have you told Nicholas?"

"No, not yet… and actually I don't know if I should. But I can't accept his proposal either."

"I see. And now?"

"I don't know."

"What about you and Michael? How does he feel?"

"I haven't talked to him since… that night, but it wouldn't work out. He wants to make music and I rule a country. It can't work."

Clarisse silently agreed with Mia, but didn't tell her so. It would be a huge mistake to influence Mia right now. She had to make her own decisions. There was only one thing left to say. "You have to tell Nicholas. No matter what your choice is, he deserves to know the truth. Otherwise it'll come to haunt you one day. It always does."

"And if he won't forgive me?" Mia asked doubtfully.

"If he loves you, he'll forgive you." Clarisse took Mia's hand and pulled her gently with her down the small path that lead to the forest.

"And why isn't Joe here then?" Mia asked curiously. "I mean he loves you and you love him and yet he sits somewhere in Spain and waits for some kind of miracle."

Clarisse froze in her movement and turned to Mia. "You can't compare Joseph and I to you and Nicholas!" she defended herself.

"And why not? Just as me, Joe made a stupid mistake! But he apologized and he regrets it!"

"This isn't about making a mistake, Mia. It's about trust! Fact is both of us have proven that we don't trust one another."

"But you love each other. I've watched the two of you for such a long time and if I've ever seen real love, it was between the two of you! Really, Grandma… You say who loves, forgives… does that mean Henry DeLesseps is closer to you than Joe is? Or what is the reason you've started to see him again?"

"How do you know that?" Clarisse asked with rising anger. She was caught in a trap and at a point where her explanation didn't make much sense. She knew it and it infuriated her. She hated to be exposed.

"Charlotte told me, he was here for dinner some days ago! How can you accept his presence after what he did to Joe?"

Clarisse' eyes were sparkling. "Look, you don't have to spend time with him and I would be glad, if you let me decide with whom I spend my evenings!"

"Is it true, he'll go to Madrid with you?"

"I haven't decided yet!" She shook her head and added between clenched teeth: "Charlotte really talks too much!"

"Only because she's worried about you and she doesn't understand you," Mia explained. "I mean, moving out of the Palace, buying this estate and becoming Genovia's official AIDS ambassador are wonderful things, but does that really replace Joe in your life?"

"I'm not trying to replace Joseph… not with the horses and certainly not with Henry. But I know Henry DeLesseps better than you know yourself, my dear. Believe me when I tell you that we had a long and painful conversation about his behaviour against you and me!"

Mia sighed. "I see. And what about Joe?"

Silence fell. Clarisse sighed and gave her granddaughter a long, estimating glance. "You're very young, Mia; when I was in your age, I had to decide between the man I thought I was in love with and the man who became my husband. It took me a very long time to find out what true love really is and I was honest when I said 'Who loves forgives', but the point is also that is a lot harder to forgive someone you love, than someone who is nothing more than a part of your past!"

***

He rubbed the glass filled with whiskey in his hand while waiting. With the help of some old contacts it hadn't taken him long to learn in which hotel Clarisse would stay during her visit. The International Aids conference would start tomorrow and her arrival was scheduled for tonight as he knew from Shades. Of course, she had chosen the Ritz for her stay and of course she would reside in the Royal Suite. He sat in the bar in the foyer and he could observe the entrance in the mirror over the bar from his seat. She was a little late but the traffic in Madrid was always an unpredictable force to reckon with.

Why he was sitting here, waiting for her, he couldn't say. It was absurd, but he hoped she would notice him immediately, just as he would notice her. He dreamt of having dinner with her, of talking to her about their problems. Damn, he just wanted to be with her. Maybe that was his chance to get through to her.

He looked up when he heard the noise of loud voices outside.

Then he saw her. Shielded by Shades and another bodyguard he didn't know, Clarisse entered the hotel haunted by a flurry of flashbulbs. He immediately saw her changed appearance and was stunned by it. Her hair was blonder and shorter than before and she had changed her wardrobe. Instead of one of her usual skirts she wore an azure coloured pantsuit and a white blouse with an almost risky cleavage. Had she lost weight? That was the only thing he couldn't put a finger on, because she was too far away. He heard her laughter after her new bodyguard made a joke and his eyes narrowed. He was quite young, tall and attractive and he hated him.

The manager of the hotel rushed through the entrance hall to welcome her while Shades and some other security guards did their best to keep the photographers outside the building.

The few people sitting in the foyer were stretching to get a glimpse of the spectacle and started whispering when they figured out the Lady's identity.

The manager pointed at the elevator doors and explained something to Clarisse who nodded in agreement. Joe realized it would be a bad moment to make his presence known. Maybe he should visit her later, after she had gotten away from it all.

He rose from his chair and decided to sneak out of the hotel before Shades or someone else would see him. He had already reached the revolving door, when he turned to have one more look at her. Since he wasn't prepared for what he saw, the shock hit him even harder. Out of the elevator stepped a man he hated more than Clarisse's new bodyguard. Henry DeLesseps gave Clarisse a hug and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

Joe swallowed and tried to turn away, but he couldn't. The scene held him captivated and he thought he would implode when he watched Henry placing his hand on the small of Clarisse's back, as he lead her into the elevator.

***


	21. Chapter 21

_Then love alone can make the fallen angels rise. _

**Chapter 20**

The conference had been closed a few hours ago and Clarisse was now sitting on the couch in the living room of her suite. She had showered and changed into her nightclothes to enjoy a calm evening after two hectic days. She wasn't hungry and had rejected a dinner invitation from Henry. Even if he wanted her to join him in his suite, she didn't want the hotel staff to think Henry was more than just a friend. She was still married and she was already annoyed by the (unjustified) gossip the tabloids spread about her and Joseph. The worst thing she ever read had been that she banned him to North Dakota, where he lived aimlessly on some farm, locked away from the world and his family. Really, the press had some nerve…

Although it was hard to admit she had been thinking a lot about him and she missed him as much as ever, but for the first time in her life, she was living her life without depending on a man and that part she enjoyed a great deal. She had success and it didn't depend on her title and her status which was something she had never experienced before. Her work for the people suffering from Aids satisfied her enormously and gave her a feeling of being useful after Mia had taken over the throne.

She had written countless letters to Joseph that she carried with her all the time. All she had to do was ask Mia for his address, but every time she wanted to, she got cold feet. The content was often the same. Sometimes, full of love and desire for him, on other days, filled with hatred and despair, because she still loved him but didn't allow herself to do so. She had waited so long for him, had ached and cried and when they had been free to be with each other she had found out, he had betrayed her oldest son and almost ruined the institution she had dedicated her life to.

She didn't doubt his love for her, but she had started doubting his integrity and that was what had hit her the most. The Joseph she knew was devoted to her and his service to his country and he didn't sleep around with women half his age who were betrothed to her son.

A soft knock on her door got her attention and she looked up.

"Yes?"

The door opened slowly and her new bodyguard, a choice Mia had made on her behalf, came in.

"There's a visitor for you, Ma'am," he announced in his gentle voice. She had to smile. The guy was really easy on the eyes. Her smile turned into a smirk as she tried to imagine what Joseph would think of him.

"And who is it?"

"It's his Royal Highness, Prince Pierre," he announced and Clarisse felt how she lost her colour.

"Send him in immediately!" she ordered, almost jumping up from the couch. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling nervous all of a sudden. She fixed her robe, her eyes were glued to the door as she waited for Pierre to enter. When he appeared in the doorframe a wide smile crossed her face. They met in the middle of the room and embraced tightly.

"Pierre!" she said emotionally and closed her eyes in relief. "Where have you been so long?"

"Trying to be a good boy," he tried to joke. "I stayed in the clinic until Sunday and then I went back to my old parish to collect my things." He freed himself from her embrace and looked at her.

"You look wonderful, Mother."

"As you do!" she said and caressed his cheek. "Let's sit down." She pulled him with her to the sofa where they sat down. "How are you?" she asked curiously. He wore jeans and a blue jacket with a white shirt. No sign of his white collar or any other indication to his priesthood.

"I'm fine…" He smiled when he saw her questioning eyes. "Really, I am. I've never been more content with my life… and I haven't felt this healthy in years!"

"I'm so glad to hear that!" She touched his cheek again and smiled at him teary-eyed. "I was so worried about you… why didn't you let me visit you?"

"Because I had to cope with everything all by myself… especially after all the trouble I gave you. I'm so sorry, Mama!"

"I know you are. But let's not think about this anymore! Those people are in jail and will remain there!"

"Is it true that Father's cousin was the impostor?" he asked and turned his gaze down to the floor.

"Yes, it was Richard… he is at a place where he can't stir up trouble anymore."

"Good." Pierre gave her a sidelong glance and drew a deep breath, as if it would cost him a lot of courage to say the next sentence. "You know… I had a long conversation with Frankie a few days ago. She paid me a visit… out of the blue, of course. You know how she is."

"Oh…" Clarisse cleared her throat. "I think I'll have to order some tea for us."

"What she told me hurt, but on the other hand it made a lot of sense. But as far as I am concerned the past should be past." He held her hand, keeping her from grabbing the receiver. "I have the crazy feeling that your reluctance to reconcile with Joe has something to do with me and my failed relationship with Francesca…"

Struggling for composure her mouth opened and closed. "Well, that's part of the problem," Clarisse admitted finally.

"But you love him and he loves you… whatever happened between Francesca and him happened before you became an item. It shouldn't be a reason for you to push him away."

She didn't answer and didn't look at him either.

"What is it, Mama?" Pierre asked tenderly and squeezed her hand.

"I guess it's just… I always thought that if it hadn't been for Francesca you would have become King… Philippe could be alive and our family would be a family and not…" She wiped at a single tear that ran over her cheek.

"Francesca and I weren't made for each other… it would have never worked out and my wish to become a priest had nothing to do with Francesca. It was a stupid attempt to escape my role as heir of the throne… it didn't work out and that's one of the reasons why I've asked the church for permission to leave the service. It's time to stop living one lie after the other. I have to get to know myself."

He gave her his handkerchief and she dried her tears. Patiently he waited until she had calmed down and added: "What happened to Philippe was an accident. You know how much he loved to chase down the roads with those motorcycles. I never told you, but he called me the day he died. He told me that he wanted to take over the job… he really wanted it. He was ready and felt prepared. He said he didn't hate me, although I never really believed him. But today I know he meant what he said." He paused for a moment and added lovingly: "And Mama, I know that he wouldn't want you to stay away from the man you love. He always wanted to see you happy and Joe is the man who makes you happy."

He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and embraced her. For a few minutes she just let him hold her while she tried to gain her composure.

"I guess you're a better priest than I'm a mother," she said after a while and backed off. He shook his head and an ironic expression appeared on his face. "Let's not go there… You're my mother and I love you. But…," He drew in a deep breath and changed the subject. "I guess I have to search for a new job sooner or later. Do you think a drug addict ex-priest with royal blood could find some work in his old mother country?"

"I'm sure he'll find a very useful and fulfilling job." Behind her last tears a smile brightened her face and she rose from the couch. "Do you want some tea? I think I could use something stronger."

"No alcohol."

"Alright… tea." Before she could pick up the receiver the phone rang. Bewildered about the late call she answered and rolled her eyes when she realized who talked on the other end of the line. "Mia… do you know how late it is? I beg your pardon… a wedding in three weeks?" Her eyes became bigger and she covered her forehead with her hand. "Are you insane? That's impossible!"

***

As always when the sun started setting Joe sat on the porch of his house and enjoyed the end of the day with a glass of good dry Spanish wine. Maybe, it was the letter in his hand that made the wine taste sweeter.

Mia, his Mia was going to marry and he was invited. The way the invitation looked it was obvious that Clarisse had chosen the layout. Was she the one who had wanted him to come as well? Or was it Mia's work?

When he had seen her with DeLesseps in that hotel he thought he must die, but a phone call to Mia had assured him that DeLesseps was nothing but a friend. And yet he was closer to her than he was. He was able to enjoy her closeness while he was living in exile, waiting for her to make the first step. Was this invitation her call for him? Knowing Clarisse he knew what it took her to let down her defences. He sipped from his wine again and turned his gaze to the horizon. Maybe the time to act had come…

***

"_With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and hands."  
_

Clarisse sighed as the vows that Mia and Nicholas had exchanged a few hours ago echoed on her mind. She had heard and spoken the words as well a short time ago. Half a year had passed since she and Joseph had gotten married, but it felt as if a lifetime lay between both events.

She hadn't thought that Mia would invite Joseph to her wedding. She hadn't told her and she had never mentioned it. But now he was here and she felt caught off guard. She had come alone, although Henry was there as well. Joseph had come alone as well. They were still married but didn't arrive together. The gossip machinery must be working like a charm by now. Tomorrow's papers wouldn't speak about the wedding, but the dowager Queen's husband who came alone while his wife danced with another man. Mia must have been out of her mind to risk a disaster like this, but it was too late now.

The dinner was almost over and soon Mia and Nicholas would open the ball. Clarisse was supposed to join them as soon as the dance started, but to avoid trouble, it had been decided Sebastian Motaz would be her dancing partner. Now with Joseph being present the solution was just as bad as if it had been Henry.

Joseph sat on the groom's side of the table next to Nicholas' cousin, his only relative since Viscount Mabrey had been banned from Royal events last year. Clarisse had noticed with a hint of jealousy that Francesca DeLesseps was invited as well. She sat (far away from Henry) two chairs next to Joseph and she had seen them chatting at the reception earlier and watching them had felt like a cold knife twisting in her heart. It enraged her that she couldn't keep her feelings under control and it enraged her even more that she didn't find the courage to go and get her man. There was still this last barrier in her heart that didn't allow her to do what was necessary.

***

After Mia and Nicholas had opened the ball Joe decided to get a drink or two. He felt incredibly displaced at this wedding. Clarisse avoided him like the plague and Delesseps was always on her heels. Naturally, she looked simply gorgeous in her red dress. In Madrid he had noticed that she had lost some weight – all in the right places. Her beauty was breathtaking and it drove him mad that DeLesseps didn't make a secret of his desire for Clarisse. His eyes clung to her and very often, when Clarisse wasn't watching, they just rested on her perfectly shaped neckline.

People were talking about them and there was no doubt about the topic of tomorrow's headlines. He should have known she didn't send the invitation. He should have known she wouldn't make the first step. He should have known she didn't forgive him. He had thought patience was the key to her heart. In the past he had spent a lifetime waiting for her and the one time he had tried to push her, had almost been the end for them. Now he knew that hoping for a miracle was delusional. He was banned from her life, like those people who had wanted to install an impostor as King were banned from Genovia. It was hopeless and the only thing he could do was leaving this Palace before he got drunk and made a scene in front of everyone. He wanted to keep his dignity before he told his lawyers to end the farce his marriage had become.

"Joe?" He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Pierre smiling at him.

"Pierre!"

"I'm glad you're here," Pierre said and blushed a bit. "I see Mia was right when she assumed you couldn't resist."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Why do I feel trapped now?" he asked suspiciously. Pierre shrugged and patted his arm. "Forgive us, but the opportunity was too inviting to let it pass. Why don't you try to talk to Mother?"

"Well, it's clear she doesn't want to talk to me." He looked over Pierre's shoulder where Clarisse stood and talked to Henry. "She'll dangle him in front of my nose for the rest of my life," Joe complained bitterly and emptied his drink.

Pierre made a sad face. "I know I'm to blame for a lot of things that happened between you and I'm sorry for it. I wasn't myself, not that it excuses anything."

Joe shook his head and placed his hand on Pierre's shoulder. He squeezed it and said: "Believe me when I tell you that this mess was created all by us alone. Actually, I'm the one who has to apologize."

"Don't." Pierre raised his hand. "It's past. Maybe you've done me a favour without knowing it." He looked at Francesca who was chitchatting with Mia and Nicholas. "I doubt I could have coped with her back then… I doubt I could cope with her now."

Joe nodded slowly. "Still, I'm sorry for everything."

"So will your bad conscious allow me to take you to my mother? I have a feeling that all it needs is a little encouragement for the two of you."

Joe eyed Clarisse and Henry with growing disappointment and turned his gaze away. "No, thanks."

"What's going on here? Can I help?" Unnoticed by Joe, because he was occupied with staring at Clarisse, Francesca had approached both men. She gave them a smile and sipped from her glass of champagne.

"I think our friend here prefers to fall into depression before he accepts some help," Pierre explained and winked at Frankie who understood when she followed Joe's eyes. Henry was leading Clarisse to the dance floor and swung her elegantly into his open arms. "I see…," she smirked and gave Pierre her glass. "Would you please take care of that for a moment or two?"

"Of course. But the next round is mine!" He took the glass and Francesca took Joe's hand. "Alright, Your Highness. And now come on, Joe – Ladies choice!"

Reluctantly he followed her onto the dance floor. He doubted the use of this whole thing and imagined what people would say about them.

***

Clarisse couldn't say she was much into the dance. Actually she tried to catch a glimpse of Joseph. She had seen him talking to Pierre and then Francesca had joined them. What was it with that woman and her men? Pierre had apparently forgiven her and even Henry had admitted that he missed his daughter. And now Pierre was alone and Francesca and Joe had vanished. Her heart beat faster and she wished the waltz would be faster so that she had the possibility to search the room quicker.

"Are you sure you feel alright?" Henry asked, noticing her nervousness.

"Yes," she answered sharply, tilting her head.

"Wish you were an owl, don't you?" he asked, slightly angry, because he sensed whom she was searching for.

"Eagle," she corrected and gave up. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm a bad dancing partner tonight."

"I would say you're just very distracted by the presence of a certain someone. It wasn't very wise of Amelia to invite him. She's ruining the whole wedding."

"Knowing Mia she doesn't care much," Clarisse mused. Her mood was changing for the worst and she knew she was close to lose it. The evening was a catastrophe and the idea of locking herself into her bedroom to cry her eyes out seemed quite tempting.

"Excuse me?" Henry startled when he felt a hand patting on his back and Clarisse swallowed as she watched Francesca asking Henry for the next dance while Joseph still held her in his arms. "I hope you don't mind a quick exchange of partners, Ma'am. And don't be too hard on Joe! He's clumsy at times, but a perfect dancer!" Frankie bowed well-behaved and grabbed her father's hand before he knew what to retort. The younger woman tore her father away, leaving Joe next to Clarisse.

"Before this gets more embarrassing you should dance with me," Joe suggested dryly. Knowing she had no other choice she gave him her hand. From everywhere curious eyes followed them and aware that they were both now the center of attention for the rest of the evening, she tried to fake a smile.

"Was that your idea?" she asked through clenched teeth as they started to dance.

"No," he answered coldly. "I was about to leave when Frankie tore me into this mess."

"Well, she has quite an influence on you!" Clarisse said bitterly.

"Must be a talent that lies in the family. She has her father's genes it seems," he retorted and pulled her a little closer.

Unsure whether the growing physical contact was what she wanted, she gave him a stern glance – and continued to dance.

***

"Well, Harry, you should really listen to me instead of trying to figure out what these two are talking about!" Francesca said in annoyance. Catching her father off guard, she took the lead and pulled him around so that he couldn't see what was going on at the other end of the ballroom.

"What do you want, Francesca?" he asked angrily.

"I want you to get over it!" she explained eagerly. "She'll never love you; she'll never be with you, no matter what happens between Joe and her! Relax, for your own good!"

He mumbled something she couldn't understand and her facial expression softened when she noticed the grief in his eyes. "Hey… you know it as well as I do. Now, get over it and stop wasting your time chasing someone who will never be yours… who never was yours. I know what I'm talking about so better take my advice before you have a heart attack!"

"It's not that easy, my dear."

"I know… but maybe there's something that could distract you for some time."

"And that is?"

"Well, first of all, I've decided that my children have spent enough time in boarding schools. I had a long conversation with both of them and we decided to make a whole new start – here in Genovia. Unfortunately, they think you belong to our family as well…" She smirked and he gave her a look. "Admit you need help to raise them."

"I don't need help to raise them – but I do need help to raise some money for my new project."

"What project?" he asked suspiciously.

"Since we all know that Motaz will have to step down by the end of the summer as Prime Minister, his party needs a new candidate for the job…" Her voice trailed off and Henry stopped in the middle of his movement. "You want to become Prime Minister?" he asked dumbfounded. "Are you insane?"

"No. I'm just ambitious."

"I thought one of the reasons you didn't marry Pierre was that you didn't want to become Queen!"

"As Prime Minister I wouldn't be Queen," she explained sheepishly. "Will you help me or not?"

"You're crazy!" Henry sighed before a proud smile crossed his face.

"So… do we have a deal?"

***

As discreetly as possible Joe took Clarisse on the terrace and closed the French doors behind them. They were alone on the terrace cloaked by the peace of the night.

"You look well," Joe said, trying to establish a normal conversation. They stood at the balustrade and enjoyed the view over the beautifully illuminated garden.

"Thank you. You too… seems you get a lot of sun."

"I did… I saw you in Madrid…" He didn't want to mention it, but now he couldn't help to say it.

"When? Where?" she asked surprised.

"I was in the hotel when you arrived…"

"Why didn't you come to see me?"

"I wanted to… then I realized you already had company."

She heard the bitterness in his voice and felt foolish. She felt her cheeks redden and lowered her eyelashes. "I ask you to believe that nothing happened between us."

"I hope so," he said huskily, "because I wouldn't survive it." He made a step towards her, but it cost all his willpower not to grab her to shake some sense into her.

"I wouldn't dream of being unfaithful to you. Never." Her voice was steady now and he believed every word. If someone on this earth was true to her vows, it was Clarisse Renaldi. And yet she hadn't made one step towards him.

"But you didn't ask me to come home either. Clarisse, I can't go on like this!"

"And neither can I. Maybe I hoped…" She made a pause and swallowed. "I hoped that one day I would wake up and realize I had forgiven you, but…" She broke off.

"But what?"

"I know now that forgiveness doesn't happen like this… I thought I had to forgive Rupert for a lot of things, but I never had to forgive him really, because everything he did never hurt me as much as you did."

His heart became heavier and he shook his head. "So it never hurt you that Rupert could have killed you though his irresponsiblity, but the few nights I spent in another woman's bed are unforgivable." His conclusion sounded as cold as he felt deep inside.

"It's not unforgivable. I just don't know how to live with it… I'm jealous and I'm possessive, I know that, but I have no idea how to change it."

"And that's why you let her father worship the ground you walk on… to let me know how it feels." He became angry. "But you know what? I had to live with this kind of jealousy for over two decades! In all those years I feared for every morning… I feared to learn that you had spent the night in Rupert's bed while I lay in mine, aching for you! You were the married one and most of the time I didn't even know if you loved me the way I loved you! And now you have the nerve to talk of jealousy after everything you let me go through to protect your husband's… lifestyle! Maybe it's because Rupert had blue blood while I'm just a commoner? Maybe you still see just the guy who has been good enough to screw you between work and another useless dinner invitation!" He was screaming at her but he didn't care. He was hurting just as she was and she needed to feel at least a bit of his despair.

"You know what… if you're unable to make a decision, fine. But I'm not! Four months… four months I've spent waiting for a sign from you… one little call or a simple note… something that tells me, there's still a chance for us. Now I see it was wasted time. Goodbye, Clarisse!"

With these words he left. "Joseph!" She shouted breathlessly, but he didn't stop. The French doors opened and Mia and Nicholas, followed by their guests, appeared, walking hand in hand. Behind Clarisse the fireworks to celebrate the newlyweds started. She turned around and pretended to watch the spectacle while tears of pain and love ran unchecked over her face.

***

It was 4 am in the morning. She hadn't slept a wink after returning home and she had contemplated to deliberately get drunk for the first time in her life. She had lost Joseph. She had messed up the chance for reconciliation, because she had behaved like a selfish brat. She had taken him and his love for granted and thought he would do and say anything to keep her. Just that he hadn't. She had hurt his pride although she should have known better. Had she mistakenly equalled him to Rupert who had been weaker and less proud? Of all the mistakes of her life tonight had been the worst. He wouldn't come back after this; and if she was honest, she understood him. The words he had thrown at her had gotten under her skin. How could he think that she just saw some kind of gigolo in him?

Had she ever given him the feeling of being unworthy of her?

Yes, she had and the realization was almost killing her.

She had been roaming the house for over two hours now. She hadn't changed and froze in her light dress even though the building was well-heated. She felt at home here, but it was definitely too large for one person. It needed life and another person to fill it.

Maurice, her French poodle lay on the carpet in the dark entrance hall waiting for her while she stared into the fire in the open fireplace in the salon. No, she wouldn't sleep tonight, that was for sure. In a bit more than one hour the sun would rise to welcome the new day. The first official day of the rest of her life without Joseph. A new wave of tears swelled in her eyes and she covered her face with her hands. Uncontrolled sobs shook her body and drained her of her last strength. How many nights of crying would she have to endure before she went insane?

Maurice barked one second before the telephone on the antique desk shrilled. She startled but regained enough composure to take the call.

"Yes?" she asked, attempting not to sound too shaken. It was the guard from the main gate of her estate. He sounded tired while he announced a visitor.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but he's quite stubborn and insists on talking to you right now," he yawned.

"Who is it?" she asked with a spark of hope in her voice.

"He says his name is Joseph."

"Let him in," she ordered flatly and let the receiver drop on the floor. "Joseph!" she whispered and rushed into the entrance hall. She passed Maurice who lifted his head in annoyance about the noise of her high heels on the stone floor and tore at the handle of the old wooden door until it flew open audibly.

After a few seconds that seemed to take years he finally appeared on her doorstep. She held her breath, trembling with anticipation, as he looked up and admired the façade of the honourable building.

"Nice house you have," he complimented nonchalantly to ease the tension. Without success. As their eyes met, she immediately threw herself into his open arms. "Joseph!" Tears streamed over her face as she clung to him as if her life depended on it. He closed his eyes as his arms locked around her and pressed her to him. "It's alright," he said huskily and dragged her gently inside the house and closed the door.

Maurice lifted his head, but didn't show any kind of reaction when Joe brought Clarisse inside the house. The proud dog rose from his place at the staircase and trotted into the salon where he lay down by the cosy fire. Not that the couple struggling with their emotions noticed the poodle's change of location.

"I'm so sorry!" she mumbled over and over again without loosening her embrace.

"No, I'm sorry. I said things I shouldn't have said. I went mad because I was jealous! I shouldn't have yelled at you the way I did. I'm the one who is sorry!"

She shook her head while he dried her tears with his thumb.

"I know I hurt you! I was egoistic and I wasn't thinking of anything but my own pain! The worst part is I deserve to lose you!"

"You'll never lose me! You should know that by now!" He kissed her head and revelled in the feeling of holding her again. He had missed her. Her scent, her body, her love.

"I love you, Joseph. I've always loved you. You were there for me when I had no one else to rely on. You were my only friend when I needed one. You were always there for me and I pushed you away!"

"And I disappointed you… we both kept our secrets over the years." He breathed in deeply and added lowly: "Can't we just agree on telling each other the truth from now on… I know we can make it. If we can't make it, who else can?"

He gave her his handkerchief and she did her best to dry her face. "I must look horrible!" she complained and turned away.

"You look as beautiful as ever."

"You're a shameless liar."

"As long as you believe me…" He wrapped his arms around her again. She snuggled up against him and felt how her body relaxed. All the tension seemed to leave under the magic influence of his presence. She finally felt at home now that he was holding her. Joseph. Her life.

"Do you really like this house?" she asked after some time. "It's old… even older to be honest. We can move somewhere else if you want to."

"No need to move. I do like it… It's charming… at least what I could see in the dark… but I have to admit a little guided tour would be nice."

"What now? At this hour?" she asked confused.

"Maybe we could start upstairs… in your rooms, before we explore the grounds around the house," he suggested sheepishly and tightened his arms around her middle. "I missed you very much, you know." Finally understanding his hint, a smile appeared on her face.

"Do you think our restored tender bond can endure something like that?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm willing to take the risk."

***

Why she her entire body was trembling while he took off her necklace, she couldn't say. Maybe it was the contact of his skin and hers. Maybe, the way his lips caressed her neck; or his slow movements as he pulled down the zipper of her dress. Maybe, it was just because her emotions got the very best of her, now that she had him back and was close to make love to him after all these months of missing and longing.

Her chest heaved and her excitement grew with every passing second. His breath tickled the back of her neck while he removed the soft fabric of her dress inch by inch.

"Of all the things I've ever seen, you're the most beautiful, unique piece," he whispered hoarsely and kissed her shoulder. The dress dropped to the floor and his hands came to rest on her thighs where he played with her garters and opened them. Greedy for a real kiss, she turned in his embrace and pressed her mouth to his. Driven by greed she pushed her tongue into his welcoming mouth and involved him into a sensual duel. They kissed hungrily until they couldn't breathe anymore and had to break apart.

"I missed you," she panted helplessly while her hands caressed his broad chest. With trembling hands she removed his bow tie and found the buttons of his shirt to open one after the other.

He watched her work with growing arousal and couldn't help but stare at the swell of her breasts. He had missed her freckled skin and the way her body reacted when it became aroused by his actions. His breath was sharp and his self-control low. He couldn't wait to tear the corsage from her body to rediscover the softness hidden beneath the fabric. They removed his shirt and he smiled when he saw her licking her lips as her hands roamed over his chest, down his flat, muscular stomach until she reached his belt.

The remainders of his clothes were gone fast and then it was on him to take care of her. Her shaking intensified when he opened the corsage with one hand while the other lay possessively on her waist. His quickly growing member pushed proudly against her thigh and let her heart beat faster. Driven by desire she touched and explored him gently, causing him to moan out loud. The light touch was enough to drive him closer to the edge and he tore the piece of her lingerie from her body and moved his hand into her slip. She gasped at the intimate contact and then the sound of tearing fabric and her small shout of surprise filled the room.

He groaned her name when he pulled her naked body back into his arms and moved her to the bed. He buried her body beneath his and kissed her senseless while his hands worked his magic on her. Exploring every inch, he did his best to tease her until she begged him for release. His mouth licked and tickled his way from her mouth, down her throat and to her bellybutton where he lingered for a while, teasing it until she arched beneath him and her nails dug into his skin, leaving long red scratches on his shoulder. Then his mouth moved lower and lower until it reached its destination between her milky thighs. Spasms raced through her body and unchecked screams escaped her throat as he kissed and licked skilfully at the most intimate parts of her being and sent her mercilessly over the edge.

Satisfied with his first accomplishment he returned to her mouth and kissed her hungrily, without giving her the chance to recover. She sighed into his mouth and then rolled him on his back. Surprised but not complaining he allowed her to take over as she moved herself onto his lap. His hands explored her upper body and ran from her waist up to her breasts to cup them gently at first and then with growing pressure. They exchanged a loving smile before she pushed her groin forward to tease his erection with her swollen folds. One hand left her breast and found the way between them where he teased her secret button until they both couldn't stand the tension any longer and united with one deep thrust. Both moaned in delight when they set the same old pace that had united them so many times before. They moved in unison, trying to extend the pleasure for as long as possible, but this time the ride was short and as orgasm broke over them she collapsed on his sweaty chest. As both recovered from their lovemaking, she snuggled up against him and wrapped her arm around his chest.

"I can't believe we're here… doing this after all these months," she said dreamily and played with the soft hair on his chest.

"Well, I didn't think it was in our cards either," he admitted softly and gave her a kiss on the head.

"I feel like I'm in heaven… I wish things could stay this way forever."

"They won't, but we could try and make it work day after day."

"You're so wise…" she teased, but in her eyes he saw an underlying seriousness. "Really, in many ways, you're much wiser than I am."

"See it as a blessing."

"I do… at your side I feel incredible blessed." She felt blessed indeed. They kissed one more time and after a few minutes both were sound asleep while the sun rose at the horizon to welcome a brand new day.

***

**Epilogue **

"You owe me 100 € and two hours of your life!" Joe said with a wide grin, as he entered the bedroom, waving the newspapers in his hand. They had made the deal to spend one half of the year in Genovia and the other half in his Spanish home outside Madrid after Clarisse had put her foot down and let the house undergo some major renovations before they moved in to spend the winter in Joseph's homeland.

"I beg you pardon?" Clarisse asked astonished. She was still in bed, though leaning against the headboard while checking the condition of her fingernails.

"Seems as if your country has a new Prime Minister since last night," he said with a grin and placed the morning paper on her lap, before he dropped his robe to join her under the covers again.

Clarisse rolled her eyes and unfolded the paper. "I thought you were joking when you suggested that bet," she said and studied the headlines. "Besides, we already knew the result. Mia called us last night, before the final results were announced."

"Yes, but now it's official," he said and added sheepishly: "We can add your debts to the amount of time you have to devote yourself to me, if you want… I would be satisfied with 3 hours. I mean, you never have cash with you, have you?"

She gave him a look. "I don't think so." Then her mien changed slowly and a concerned expression appeared on her face.

"What is it?" he asked worriedly. "I thought you and Francesca have buried your differences."

"Yes, we have…," she said slowly. "It's just… I don't know if this is healthy. I mean… so far no one has found out that she and Pierre are seeing each other again – privately… but what if? He's a member of the Royal Family… she is the Prime Minister. How long will she be in this position, if anyone learns about this relationship?" She closed the newspaper and dropped it on the floor. He understood her reservations, but to him the case was less hopeless.

"Well, first of all… Pierre has no official function in the family. He's helping you with your Aids foundation and doesn't represent the Royal Family and…," he made a meaningful pause. "They are both adults and you should let them make their own decisions. Should it be the case that they get married, they have to find a way to deal with the circumstances."

"Thanks for the advice!" she retorted ironically. "But I want to see your face when Henry DeLesseps sits at our table at family gatherings. Christmas will turn into a delightful occasion!" She smirked when his facial expression lost its cheerfulness.

"You haven't even given it a thought, right?"

"Let's say, I try not to think too much about him," he answered, avoiding her eyes.

"I see, I have to overcome my reservations towards Francesca, but you still prefer to be at odds with Henry. Now that's interesting."

He cleared his throat, obviously uneasy with the situation. "Well, the difference is that I don't want to bed Francesca, DeLesseps on the other hand…"

"It takes two to tango, Joseph," she reminded him and shifted her position in bed to get closer to him. She placed her leg over his thighs and seductively rubbed it against him.

"You think so?" he asked and slipped his hand under her nightgown to caress her leg.

"Oh yes… and now, I would love to pay my debts, because we've got an invitation for lunch from your sister and you know she hates it when people don't sit at her table on time!"

She lifted herself on top of him and started to assault his neck and chest with kisses. Feeling already lost he let his fingers glide over her arms to her shoulders.

"You know that you're my slave, not the other way round, don't you?" he asked huskily before her mouth captured his and forced him into a passionate kiss.

"What did you say?" she asked with a broad smile and licked his lower lip. "I don't think I heard you…"

"Witch," he mumbled, rough tenderness darkening his voice, and began to pull down the straps of her nightgown.

*** The End***


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